


Iridium is the Second Densest Substance on Earth (After Guys from Chicago)

by Katarin



Category: Bandom, Bandom: Chitown Hipsters, Bandom: Empires
Genre: Teacher AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-23
Updated: 2010-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-11 05:16:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katarin/pseuds/Katarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Real World AU. Tom has an awful track record with love and he's almost given up when he meets his goddaughter's kindergarten teacher Sean Van Vleet. They're terrible at courtship. (Also includes Nick Scimeca overcoming his "No homo" motto to realize his feelings for his roommate, De'Mar.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iridium is the Second Densest Substance on Earth (After Guys from Chicago)

"What about Casey? She's cute, she's into art and I think she's learning guitar." Nick looks up from the computer screen with a hopeful look, tipping his fedora back.

"Danielle's ex-roommate Casey?" Tom asks, because no fucking way is Nick being that dense.

"They were roommates?" Nick's face is kind of hilarious. "Our friends are so incestuous."

"At least you're not trying to set me up with fucking AJ anymore," Tom tells him, throwing a piece of wadded up paper at him.

"AJ's a nice guy. Who _cares_ if he had that thing with-" Nick hesitates and gestures with his hand. "With him, you're so fucking sensitive."

"Not wanting to sleep with my ex's ex isn't me being sensitive," Tom shoots back.

"Fine, you're totally happy with never getting laid again, I get it," Nick throws his pencil at Tom, and Tom has to jump down off the desk to avoid it.

"Fuck off. Who made you my fairy godmother and relationship guru? At least when Pete does it he has the excuse of being old and married already." Tom flips Nick off.

"Don't you have pictures to develop or something? I'm kind of busy making sure you don't go bankrupt," Nick snipes back, poking Tom with another pencil.

Tom really doesn't get Nick and Pete's weird fixation on him. He thinks Nick might be avoiding his own heartache over the Stephanie thing by throwing boys and girls at Tom every time he turns around.

With Pete, he wonders if there's some kind of weird switch in your brain that gets thrown when you get married, and you have to make sure everyone else you know is married too. He'd be certain of this if it wasn't for Jon still being able to have a conversation with him without bringing up some "nice girl" or "sweet guy" he knows that Tom would just love. That doesn't stop Brendon from doing it, but Brendon being overenthusiastic is kind of a fact of life, and it's not like he hasn't backed off since the blind date he set up between Tom and his friend Shane ended in thrown punches and awkward parties for months.

Tom knows he hasn't been in a serious relationship in a while, knows his and Danielle's last attempt to get it together crashed and burned before it even started, much to no one's surprise. He knows he's still a little too messed up over his break-up with Bill than would probably be considered healthy. The thing is, Tom's fucking okay with not being in a relationship, and he's fine with the rest of his life too.

He's got his job, for instance, which he loves. He likes being his own boss and having his own space to develop pictures and his own time to take them. And with Nick willing to help with the actual "business" part of owning a business, he's free to do that. Sometimes he misses his old life, misses the glamour and the exotic locations, misses jet setting and seeing his pictures in glossy, high-priced magazines. Most of all he misses all of the opportunities to take his own pictures when he was done with the ones he was getting paid to do.

Sure, prints of mom and pop's backyard barbecue make up most of his business. That's not really the art he wants to be making, but it pays the bills and more than that, it makes people happy. He likes watching the way people light up when they see their son's third birthday or their daughter's prize winning science fair project captured forever on film.

Tom looks up when the bell Nick put over the door clanks. A guy walks in and he doesn't think he knows him, but he wouldn't mind the opportunity. Blonde hair, blueblue eyes, and this _mouth_ that Tom can't look away from because he's _smiling_ at him, and Tom could seriously be smiled at all day by whoever Mr. Blonde hair in the American Apparel hoodie is.

"Do you work here?" the guys asks, slowly and like he's maybe asked it a few times.

"Oh yeah, I'm Tom, Conrad… like from the name, Conrad Photo." Tom thinks he's babbling so he coughs. "How can I help you?"

"I needed some prints, and a friend recommended you," he says. He's biting his lip though, like he's rethinking the decision.

"We do all sorts of prints here," Tom assures him, and because he _is_ wearing an American Apparel hoodie and it's entirely possible he's a hipster he adds, "And it's really great that you're supporting local businesses." Nick told him to say that, and Tom's been surprised at just how often it works.

Mr. American Apparel hoodie still looks uncertain, but he sets a couple canisters of film down on the counter. "I just need some prints, just regular, run-of-the-mill type prints, nothing fancy. My aide recommended this place." Tom tries not to be insulted by the way he says _this place_. His little shop has charm, and it's not like he's running a beauty pageant here.

"That was good of him," Tom says, holding his hand out for the film. "A lot of people use major chain stores these days, takes all the personality out of photos." Tom hands him a slip to fill out, asking for the basics: name, address, telephone number, how many copies.

"Thanks," Tom says when the guy hands it back to him. Then the guy starts subtly wiping at his face, and Tom realizes he's staring. Nick always says he stares too much. "Well," he looks down at the slip, "Sean, these should be done by tomorrow if you want to come by."

"Okay, great. I'll be back tomorrow, then," Sean smiles, mouth spread wide in a huge grin, and Tom forgets what he was going to say. He nods, waving as Sean leaves, and as soon as the door closes he hears Nick laughing behind him.

"You're so fucking smooth, Conrad," he says, and Tom throws the pen that's laying on the counter at him.

"Fuck off," he tells him.

"What was that about being completely okay with not seeing anyone?" Nick asks, and Tom shoves him.

"You done?" he asks, completely ignoring Nick's question. Nick nods. "C'mon then, I'll close up and we can grab a beer."

\---

"So are you gonna call him?" Nick asks, looking over from where he's trying to throw darts. Nick can't throw darts sober, and he sure as fuck can't throw them when he's this drunk. Tom shakes his head.

"I didn't ask him for his number or anything." He takes a long pull on his beer, thinking for a second. "It's on his slip though. I could go back to work and get it from there!"

Nick laughs. "You can't use that to call him and ask him out," he says, and Tom frowns. "Conrad, this is one of those times you told me to tell you about. You're being creepy."

Tom looks down into his beer because he did ask Nick to tell him, way back when he got stood up by some art student and thought it would be a good idea to pull the fire alarm at her apartment to get her back or something. He was maybe drunk at the time, but he'd had to call Nick from a hiding place in some bushes across the street to come pick him up, and from then on, Nick's had permission to tell him when he's being creepy.

"So how's De'Mar settling in?" Tom asks, trying to change the subject so he'll stop thinking about Mr. Tall, Blond American Apparel.

"I love De'Mar, but _fuck_ does he have a lot of fucking stuff. I mean, Luciani didn't bring this much shit when he crashed on my couch." Nick flags the waitress down, orders another round.

"Ryan doesn't _own_ as much shit as De'Mar," Tom replies. "Speaking of, why didn't you invite him out?"

"Nah," Nick says, knocking back the rest of his beer. "De'Mar isn't in much of a party mood right now." He shakes his head. "Chicks, man."

Tom laughs, rolling his eyes. "So he's home alone with his pain?"

"Fucker, I have spent every night for the past _three weeks_ trying to help De'Mar forget Lindsey, okay? No homo." Tom laughs again, and that's when the waitress shows up with the next round.

\---

The bartender cuts them off, Tom accidentally breaks a glass, and just that quick they get tossed out. He leans against the wall outside, Nick on his knees next to him, and tries to get his hand to stop bleeding. Nick's bent forward like he's going to throw up but still hasn't.

"What about De'Mar?" Tom asks, kicking at Nick's shoes.

"What about him?" Nick asks, forehead pressed against the brick of the bar wall. "That motherfucker passed out hours ago, he always does these days."

Tom lets his head fall back against the wall and lets out a low groan, wishing his head would stop spinning so he could think of someone to call.

"Ryan?" Nick asks, and they both start laughing at the same time.

"Yeah, because Ryan Luciani is totally sober at this hour," Tom says between laughs.

"Who do we know that's still in a condition to come here and drive us home then?" Nick asks, and then looks up at the same time Tom shakes his head.

"No," he says, pointing down at Nick. "No fucking way!"

"Dude, you know he'll totally be good to go!" Nick stands up, looking noticeably less green but still having to lean heavily against the wall to stand up.

"No calls after eleven, man. You know that." It's an iron-clad rule. It came down from on high that first night in the hospital. Tom had held Lucy in his arms, swearing to himself but never aloud that she had Jon's eyes, that he could almost see that little bit of him staring up through her. He'd held Lucy, and Jon pretended he wasn't crying while Ryan told him they all wanted him to be godfather. That's when Spencer had started listing the rules, and one of the first rules was that he wasn't allowed to call after eleven anymore.

_"There's a fucking baby in the house now," Spencer had told him with a glare. "If you wake her up by calling at all hours I'll fucking kill you, and she'll grow up wrong from sleep deprivation and it will be all your fault." _

"Plus she'll cry," Brendon had added, looking up at Tom for just a second before going back to softly running his hands over her hair. "You don't want to make my baby cry, Tom." Brendon had been right, he never has.

"Oh come _on_," Nick says. "He's home. He's sober. You know he'll come get us."

"I _promised_, Nick. I fucking promised, and I'm not gonna be the reason Lucy fails out of school."

Nick blinks at him. "Since when are you a paranoid drunk?"

"No, seriously." Tom remembers the long lecture Spencer gave him about this. "Kids need sleep. If she doesn't get sleep she won't be able to concentrate at school, and she'll fail out and become a homeless, drug-dealing crack addict or something, and it'll be my fault."

Nick blinks at him again, staring for a few minutes before fumbling in his pockets for his phone.

"No!" Tom says, trying to reach out. "You can't call!"

"Dude, we can't drive home, and I'm not leaving my car here to get fucking stolen. Call Jon, for fuck's sake." Nick holds out his phone, and Tom takes it in defeat.

He dials the number and waits for about half a ring before Jon's answering. He sounds half asleep and vaguely pissed when he yawns out, "Nick, what the fuck?"

"Dude, don't say it's me!" Tom says.

"Tom?" Jon asks, and Tom smacks his head back against the wall.

"Tell that fucker he's not godfather anymore," he hears Spencer mutter in the background.

"Make him take that back, Jon!" Tom says into the phone, and Nick reaches out, trying to steal it back.

"Come pick us up, Jwalk! Don't listen to him! Come pick us up!" Nick shouts and then promptly goes back to his knees, hurling. Some of it splashes on Tom's shoes, and Tom has to concentrate on holding onto the wall and not falling over while he steps away to avoid it.

Over the phone, Jon sighs. "Where are you guys?" he asks, and Tom gives him the address. Nick's still bent over like he might start throwing up again any second, but he's flailing one hand at Tom like he's trying to remind him of something.

"Oh yeah, Nick wants you to take the red line or a cab because he doesn't want his car to get stolen." Tom holds his breath after saying it and Jon sighs.

"I fucking hate both of you," he says, but Tom knows he doesn't mean it.

\---

Jon shows up in his pajamas, a pair of flip-flops, and a hoodie. He frowns at both of them, and even though he has to look up to do it, being a parent has perfected Jon's ability to frown. "Nick threw up," Tom says. "It was seriously gross." He holds up his still bleeding hand, trying to look pitiful. "And I messed up my hand."

Jon softens at this and leans closer to Tom to look at his hand. "Is it broken?" he asks, and Tom shakes his head.

"It just hurts and is bleeding a lot," he answers.

Jon sighs. "Where the fuck is Nick's car?"

When they get to it, Nick sprawls out across the back seat, turning over onto his side. Tom takes shotgun and Jon pulls out of the parking lot. "I hope you know you're taking the bus to work tomorrow," Jon says, turning his head so Nick knows he's talking to him.

"Oh C'mon, Jon. The redline runs right by your place!" Nick argues, softly, curling up into the fetal position.

"And you woke me up in the middle of the fucking night to come pick your drunken asses up. No way am I taking the redline twice at this hour. In exchange for picking you two up, I'm taking your car for the day." Jon takes the next turn, and in the backseat Nick sighs.

"Married life's turned you into a grump, Walker," he says.

"Fucker, if I'm getting woken up at two in the morning there's usually a blowjob in it for me," he says, flipping Nick off in the rearview mirror. "Of course I'm grumpy getting dragged out of bed to watch you puke in an alley."

"No homo, Jwalk," Nick says, and then pushes at Tom's seat. "Maybe Tom could help you out though!"

"Fuck you!" Tom says, reaching back to punch Nick in the thigh. "Besides, Spencer and the guys would kill me, you know they would."

"Don't make jokes about me and infidelity, fucker," Jon says. Tom pulls his cigarettes and lighter out of his pocket, taps one out, and lights it up just to have Jon reach out and steal it right out of his mouth.

"Didn't you quit?" Tom asks, frowning and lighting up another. "I seem to remember someone saying he'd quit because he couldn't come down with emphysema or infect Lucy with secondhand smoke."

Jon flips him off and inhales so deep Tom's surprised he doesn't hurt himself. "You're really gonna get it now," Nick pipes up from the backseat. "Coming in from picking up your hooligan friends smelling like smoke? Grounded!"

"Fuck off, Nick," Tom says because it's not like that, and Jon isn't going to take that from Nick, not even if he's drunk. "Jon's a dad, it's not stuff we'd understand."

Jon had told him he was quitting that night at the hospital. They ducked outside together to take a break from pacing and waiting for news on how the surrogate was doing, whether the baby had come yet. "This is my last," Jon said, looking at the cigarette in his hand. "No more, not now that she's here." He'd given Tom his reasons and Tom hadn't believed him, hadn't believed he'd ever really quit one of his favorite vices.

Then he saw Lucy in Jon's arms, saw Jon crying while he touched his daughter's hair and held her little hand. Jon gave him the biggest beaming smile while he handed her over to him. "Don't forget to support her head," he'd said, and right then, with Lucy in his arms and the four of them deliriously happy around him, Tom believed Jon would do anything for her.

They drop Nick off first, watch him stumble upstairs and fumble with his keys for nearly ten minutes before getting it in the lock. "Remind me, when I'm sober, to make fun of Nick for not being able to get it in, okay?" Tom asks, and Jon laughs.

"He didn't mean it, you know," he adds, when Jon doesn't say anything. It's not like he and Jon never stop talking when they're together, but this isn't Jon's usual brand of quiet. "He was just giving you a hard time. And he's kind of bitter and jealous too. I mean, you got it right practically the first time out, you know? You have everything he was supposed to have by now."

"Nick Scimeca is _not_ jealous of me being an old married DAD," Jon says, shaking his head. Tom recognizes the look on his face though. He's seen a bunch of other times when Jon wants what Tom's saying to be true, even if he doesn't think it is.

"He thought him and Steph were forever, Jon," Tom says. "Maybe he doesn't want to admit it, but of fucking _course_ he's a little jealous. We're all a little jealous."

Jon looks over at that, and Tom looks away. He wasn't going to have kids and a mortgage with Bill, but even he can admit to sometimes missing that settled feeling, like the world would always make sense so long as they were together. "It's not like you're dead or something, Tom," Jon tells him. "You'll find it. I know you will because you're too awesome not to."

_What if I already did?_ he doesn't ask because he doesn't want to go through this with Jon again. _What if I had it and I was stupid enough to let it get away?_ Jon was there when almost no one else was. Jon brought him back when all he wanted to do was give up. He doesn't deserve to have Tom throw his maudlin, drunken whining in his lap.

"Thanks again for picking us up," He says instead. "I know it's against the rules and everything."

Jon shrugs. "It's cool, you'd do the same for me."

"Are the guys pissed?" he asks, even though he's pretty sure he knows the answer.

"Spencer's got an early morning tomorrow. He's got to go pick out ingredients at the fish and meat markets. So he's pretty pissed, but I agreed to take Lucy to school tomorrow for Ryan so he's not too mad anymore. Brendon slept through it."

Tom winces. "So you have to be up in a couple hours?" Jon nods and Tom feels terrible.

"Sorry, seriously, man."

"Seriously, stop saying sorry. If I didn't want to do it I wouldn't have. You wouldn't have died from taking a cab or something," Jon says, reaching out to punch his arm. "This way I've got a car to take Lucy tomorrow. It's pretty sweet."

Tom shuts up for the rest of the ride home and only puts up minimal fuss when Jon hugs him goodbye. "Take care, Tom," Jon says, while he's climbing out of Nick's car. "And don't kid yourself about Bill being it for you. There's no fucking way that's true."

Tom pulls his hoodie closer around himself and ducks his head. Leave it to Jon to always know what he's thinking. "Night, Jon," he says and heads up to his empty apartment.   
\---

In the morning, Tom pounds aspirin and black coffee to deal with his hangover and takes the bus to work like usual. He answers email and types up invoices for an hour, waiting for his head to stop pounding and his stomach to stop complaining. Then he really starts getting to work.

He has some professional shots to do first, local photographers who don't have their own labs and trust him to get across their vision. Tom loses himself in gorgeously lit scenes and breathtaking cityscapes; when he looks up, it's time for lunch and he's actually gotten a lot accomplished.

After lunch he starts developing the less professional shots. He saves Sean's for last because he wants to be able to appreciate them more. As he develops them, he's surprised to find shot after shot after shot of children. There's one of a little girl writing her name and another of a little boy painting a picture of the sun. In another shot a handsome, dark-skinned guy with twisted out hair is standing at the front of a line of children, helping them wash their hands.

Halfway through the roll he sees Lucy. Or at least he thinks he sees her. It's a little girl with dark hair, pink leggings, a floral print skirt and a light blue shirt. Her back is to the camera and she's drawing a line of five people on the board. He shakes his head, laughing to himself because he thought he'd gotten over that. He used to think every dark haired little girl was Lucy, no matter how clearly it wasn't, and it used to make him panic for just a second, wondering what she was doing walking around without Jon or one of the guys.

The first shot of Sean on the entire roll has him smiling and passing out graham crackers. The second is of him with a guitar, mouth open like he's singing, and Lucy sitting next to him, holding a tambourine and singing too. He's floored for a second, staring down at the picture because there's absolutely no doubt it's Lucy. He'd already figured out that Sean was a teacher of some kind, but he didn't expect him to be _his_ Lucy's teacher.

There are a couple more pictures of Lucy by herself and Lucy with her classmates. None of them are particularly special or anything he hasn't seen a couple hundred times in other pictures of other children. Tom can't help pausing at each picture of her smiling. He imagines he sees Jon in that smile. When he gets to the one of her looking incredibly unimpressed at whatever some other little boy is telling her he thinks he can see Spencer in her.

He knows that this is why people take a million pictures of their kids. This is why parents come to his shop to drop off roll after roll of their children doing the most ordinary, mundane things in the world. Most days, Lucy is the closest he ever expects to get to having a child of his own, and every single thing she does feels like magic to him.

Tom calls Sean, hoping to get to talk to him before he comes in today. He leaves an awkward message about Sean's pictures being ready and hangs up. He's a little disappointed that Sean doesn't answer, even though he's never been all that good on the phone. Then he remembers it's still the middle of the day and Sean is probably at school, teaching Lucy. It's a good thing he didn't answer the phone because Lucy deserves better.

Sean doesn't bother calling him back, but he shows up before closing, messenger bag slung over his shoulder and his hair in his eyes. "Are you closed?" he asks, pushing just his head and shoulders through the door like Tom's going to throw him out if they are.

"No, not yet, come on in," he says. Sean does, stepping up to the front counter and trying to shove his hair back away from his face. He's wearing another American Apparel hoodie, but today it's open and Tom can see the v-neck and jeans he's wearing underneath. Tom likes the look of Sean's neck. It would make an interesting picture; a close-up of Sean's smile and the hollow of Sean's throat, especially if he could light it just right.

"I asked if I could have my pictures," Sean says, sighing and rolling his eyes. Tom smiles sheepishly, feeling stupid for zoning out on Sean yet again.

"Sorry, yeah. Just a second, okay?" he heads back to grab the thick manila envelope with Sean's name on it. When he brings it back out, Sean's leaning against the counter and rubbing at his temples. Now that he's looking at _Sean_ instead of just his mouth or his throat, it's really obvious that he looks tired. "Rough day?" he asks, ringing up the prints.

"Long day," Sean answers. "I'm a teacher."

"I know," Tom says, and then blushes and looks down because he can practically hear Jon or Nick saying _way to be creepy, Conrad_. "The pictures, it was kind of obvious."

Sean shakes his head and then smiles. "Right, well anyway, my aide called in sick today, and needless to say, morning and afternoon playtime is a lot more exhausting when you're trying to keep track of everyone by yourself."

"That'll be $14.37," Tom says and swallows hard because this is it, his chance, his perfect opportunity. "Well, you know, I'm about to close the shop. I could take you out to get coffee, wake you up a bit." He smiles hopefully when he says it while still trying to be as casual as possible.

It doesn't do much good because Sean is looking away and reaching around in his bag for his wallet. He shoves aside a bunch of books, some notebooks and a binder before moving on to one of the front pockets. "No, that's okay," he says, moving aside a bunch of stuff. "I don't have too much to do tonight. I'm just gonna firm up the lesson plan for tomorrow and get to bed early. There we go!"

He comes up with his wallet and a huge smile on his face, and Tom tries to pretend like his face didn't fall when Sean turned him down. He takes Sean's cash and prints him up a receipt. "Sounds good, but what about-"

He's interrupted by Nick crashing through the front door. "Hey!" he says overly loud. "Tom, Tom. Tom Conrad. My very good friend Tom. We should go out and do something, man!" He says.

Sean takes his change and turns to go. "Thank you," he says, smiling one last time, and Tom can't be completely certain but it feels like he lingers for a second. He gives Tom the once over and it feels more than friendly.

"No wait!" Tom thinks, desperately trying to figure out what to say because Sean is in fact waiting, hand hovering over the door and looking at him expectantly. He looks back and forth between Nick, who's now leaning against the wall, and Sean. Ordinarily, he waits at least four dates before he introduces people to Nick. Nick can be… intense for people who aren't used to him, don't have a good reason to put up with him, or aren't drunk.

But Sean is right there and he's going to _leave_, so he bites the bullet. "Did you want to come with us? You know, out?"

Sean's still smiling when he shakes his head and that's the only good part of this whole thing. "No thanks," he says, shrugging. "The school kind of makes me take drug tests and stuff. You know how it is." Then he's gone, before Tom can explain that he's not on drugs, sort of… at the moment and that Nick's just being weird.

"Dude, what the _fuck_ was that?" he asks, turning to Nick.

"What?" Nick replies, shrugging.

"Way to fucking cock-block, Nick, _fuck_!" Tom answers, smacking the counter.

"I wasn't cock-blocking." Nick shoves up off the wall and comes to lean on the counter. "You done here? Close up so we can go do something."

"Shouldn't you be at home with De'Mar?" Tom asks, and if he's also closing up it's not because Nick told him to. It's closing time and he was going to close up anyway.

"Why?" Nick asks. "Did he say something? Is there a reason I should be home with De'Mar? I mean at _my_ home, apartment… whatever, where De'Mar just happens to be staying. It's my place, not like, our place or whatever."

Tom blinks and closes out the register. "Man, if you're gonna show up at my work this high you had better have brought enough to share."

"I'm not _on_ anything!" Nick shoves his hands in his pockets, and Tom grabs his bag and keys and heads out, Nick trailing him. He locks up while Nick hovers behind him.

"Will you please get off my ass?" Tom says, and Nick leans back against the wall.

"So what do you say?" Nick asks once Tom's put away his keys.

"What do I say to what?" Tom replies, blinking. He doesn't remember Nick asking a question, just rambling about his apartment and then denying he was high.

"Doing something together. We should go get dinner or something." Nick looks up at him hopefully, and Tom actually feels bad for shaking his head.

"Can't, sorry," he says. "I'm totally running short this week."

"I'll pay!" Nick answers, and Tom stops dead in his tracks.

"Nick…" he swallows hard, turning to Nick with wide eyes. "Man, if you've got cancer or something you don't have to buy me dinner to tell me. I can take it! I'll be here and like, be supportive and stuff. If you need blood or a kidney or an extra ball or something, just ask."

"Eww, fucker." Nick's entire faces crumples in disgust and he shakes his head. "I'm not fucking dying. I just want to go out and I want you to come with me." He punches Tom's shoulder. "I went by Jon's shelter to pick up my car. C'mon, I'll drive."

They go to a Greek place Nick likes, and as soon as they've ordered dinner and beers Nick's hitting him with, "So what's up with you and the blond?"

Tom shrugs, drinking from his water glass and tips his head back. "He's so great, you know? But I asked him out for coffee and to come with us and he turned me down cold."

"Did you actually ask him out for coffee? Because you didn't really ask him out with us," Nick tells him, and Tom frowns, not getting it. "You do that thing, Tom. That thing where you ask girls and guys out all casually so it sounds like it's just friendly or something. That or you ask them to hang out with a group of friends and don't bother letting them know it's a date until you're both drunk and getting handsy."

Tom blinks, staring at Nick. "That's not true."

"Yeah it is." Nick doesn't bother to look up. He looks like he's trying to pick up the candle and read the label on the bottom. "Seriously, think about every relationship you've ever been in and tell me they didn't all basically start with second base."

Tom met Danielle through Nick when they were still in high school. He asked her to go to some show with Nick, Stephanie, and some others. He met Robin and Johnny at parties and was halfway to third base before he got their names. He blew Butcher in the darkroom at Columbia when they all got drunk after being chosen for paid internships at some huge fashion magazine. He met Theresa at Starbucks and asked her to hang with his friends.

He tries so, so hard not to think about Bill, but like always it proves futile. He met Bill on set during his internship. He had to help Bill with his wardrobe, his fingers clumsy on the weird buttons on Bill's jeans, and Bill laughing at the way he blushed and swore when the zipper caught. He had trouble concentrating on moving the props and adjusting the lights for the photographer with Bill standing there looking beautiful and half naked.

They'd met up again at some industry party later, one that the magazine was throwing and begrudgingly extended him an invite to. Bill had offered him a drink, and he'd spent the entire party listening to Bill talk about creativity and how much he appreciated Tom being a creative person. They shared a cab home and Tom pulled Bill into his lap. Bill jerked him off before putting his number in Tom's phone. Their first "date" was hanging out with the other interns at a bar and then Tom blowing Bill in a bathroom stall.

His thing with Bill started the same way all of his other relationships had. "Huh," he says, and Nick laughs.

"There are worse things than being as old as you are and never being on a real first date." Nick smiles smugly at him when he says it, like he's somehow so much better than Tom. The only possible thing he could say would be something shitty about Stephanie, and there's no way he's going to do that.

"Whatever, did I tell you that Sean teaches Lucy?" he asks instead of something he'll regret.

"Lucy who? Jon's Lucy? _Our_ Lucy?" Nick asks, and Tom nods because she's both of those things. Nick's just as in love with her as Tom after all.

"Yeah. He teaches kindergarten, and I saw her when I was developing his pictures. That's like… it's a crazy coincidence, right?" Tom doesn't want to say something stupid like 'destiny' or anything but it is pretty amazing. There has to be hundreds of elementary schools in Chicago, what are the odds of Lucy's teacher being the one he can't get out of his head?

"Well now you _have_ to get him to go out with you. Spencer says she talks about him all the time like he's the second coming or something." Their waitress shows up with their beers then and Tom thinks for a second.

"When were you talking to Spencer?" Tom asks, because he'd always thought Spencer wasn't Nick's biggest fan.

"Shows what you know. Me and Spence get along _great_, and even if we didn't, his restaurant decided to redo their website and promotional materials. Since my company is made of magic, we've been talking a lot."

"Well, it's good to know he's such a good teacher," Tom answers, because he doesn't know what to say about Spencer and Nick getting along so well. It's not like Spencer hates him or something, but Tom's never gotten the impression Spencer's his biggest fan.

"Brendon doesn't like him," Nick tells him, leaning in like he's telling a secret. Tom frowns, because Brendon's usually a good judge of character. Nick just nods when he sees Tom's face. "Spence says he's totally jealous. She does that thing kids do, where she'll call them Mr. Sean sometimes, and you know how Brendon is about Lucy."

Tom does. "Well that's not Sean's fault. I mean, Brendon's so… you know. Him being jealous over Lucy liking Sean doesn't mean Sean's a bad guy. He's just worried about losing his baby girl." Brendon's a good guy, but he's even more irrational than Tom and Jon combined when it comes to Lucy.

Nick shrugs. "I was just letting you know the lay of the land before you got too involved." Their waitress comes then, dropping off another round and their food. They thank her, and Nick leans forward, gesturing to something on Tom's plate. "You gonna eat that?"   
\---

In the morning (well, the afternoon, because Tom's doesn't open until late morning and he knows better than to call Jon too early), he calls Jon at work. He was up until late last night, but he thinks he has a pretty awesome plan.

"PAWS Chicago," Jon answers in that offhanded way that means he must be doing something else too. This early in the day he's likely giving the animals their meds.

"Hey!" Tom says, leaning against his counter. "What's up?"

"Tom? The usual; giving animals their anti-biotics and trying not to get bitten for the trouble." There's a pause, and Tom assumes he's got a particularly stubborn dog or cat, then he speaks and it's obvious he was just trying to find a tactful way to phrase his question. "Not that I don't love hearing from you, because I do, but was there a reason you're calling me at work?"

Tom traces a circle onto the top of the counter and clears his throat. "Yeah, I was wondering if I could pick Lucy up from school today?" He holds his breath afterwards, hoping Jon will agree without asking too many questions.

"Why would you want to pick Lucy up from school? It's out of your way and you'd have to close up the shop for most of the afternoon to do it." Jon doesn't sound suspicious, just genuinely curious.

"I was just talking about her with Nick and stuff, and I realized how long it's been. I figured we could hang out for the afternoon. I just really miss her." It's true. He does miss Lucy, and it's been too long since he last saw her. Wanting to see Sean again is just one part of this. A big part, but just a part nonetheless.

"Oh Tom," Jon says, like he always does whenever Tom stumbles through asking for playtime with Lucy. "You know you're always welcome at our place, right? I mean, always. Me and the guys want you to have all the time you want with Lucy."

"Yeah, I know, I just forget until it's way too late at night or the middle of the day and everything."

"I'll call and tell Ryan he doesn't have to pick her up, okay?" Jon offers, and Tom nods even though Jon can't see him. "You two have fun."

"Thanks, Jon," he answers. "Just… thanks."

"Don't be dumb, Tomrad, anytime." Jon hangs up then and Tom goes back to work.

"Conrad Photo," he answers when the phone rings twenty minutes later. It's Spencer.

"Do you know what time you're going to be picking up Lucy?" he asks, and Tom blinks.

"Yeah, I've been there with Jon before. It's not like I'm completely new at this, Spencer." He had to leave before Lucy got out of school, but he walked Jon there. And even if he hadn't he could fucking Google it.

"Okay," Spencer answers. "Make sure she does her homework, okay? And don't feed her too much junk food."

"Got it, Dad," Tom answers, rolling his eyes and hanging up.

Less than a minute later, his cell starts playing _Just a small town girl_. "Hey Brendon," he answers, leaning against the counter.

"Hey Tom, I heard about you picking up Lucy," he says, clearly trying to act casual.

Tom rolls his eyes. "Yeah I am. Did you have anything you wanted me to do?"

"Well, now that you mention it. I wanted to remind you that she usually has graham crackers, carrot sticks, and milk when she gets home. And she needs you to sit with her while she does her homework." He thinks Brendon's done because he pauses, and Tom's ready to move on to asking him about work. Sometimes Brendon will play something he's been working on if he's stuck on it or wants input. He once told Tom it was because Tom's not as invested in his work as the guys.

"Sometimes she needs a nap when she gets home," Brendon adds, "if they got extra playtime or do PE."

"Yeah, okay," Tom says. "I can do-"

"And when she takes her nap," Brendon continues, like Tom hasn't said anything, "we always sing-"

"Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds," Tom finishes, because it's not like he's a total stranger. It's the song she was named for. He was hanging out with Jon once and she was sleepy, and he watched her crawl into Jon's lap and reach up and tug on his beard. _Sing me my song, Daddy_, she said and leaned her head back against Jon's chest. "Brendon, I'm just picking her up from school. It's all gonna be fine."

Across the line, Brendon sighs. "I'm doing that thing I do, aren't I, that thing where Spencer's always telling me to quit acting like Joan Crawford?"

"Spencer never calls it that," Tom says. "You call it that."

"Ryan called it that once," Brendon replies defensively.

"I really don't doubt that. Any other suggestions, Mommie Dearest?"

"Fuck off," Brendon says and hangs up.

He knows the next call is coming so he doesn't bother even putting his phone down. "Hey, Ryan," he says, answering after only one ring.

"Hey, Tom," Ryan sounds distracted. "So you're picking up Lucy?"

"Yeah, did you have anything special you wanted me to do for you?" he asks.

"Huh? Oh, no. It's only going to be a few hours, right? I mean how much could go wrong in a couple hours? Even if it is you." Ryan makes a _hmmm_ noise, and Tom can just hear his pencil tapping in the background.

"Thanks, Ryan," he says and means it. In his own Ryan-like way it's a compliment.

"What do you think of the phrase _broken lamps, haunted and scratching like mice in the kitchen_" Tom waits for Ryan to pause long enough to signal he's finished and not just long enough for dramatic flair. Tom hates when he starts talking just as Ryan begins finishing his thought.

"This is for a story?" he asks.

"What? No. How would that make sense in a story, Tom?" Ryan sounds genuinely puzzled like between the two of them, Tom's the one not making sense.

"My Caller ID says you're calling me from the Trib. When you call from your work phone I just figure-"

"Oh, I am. I just had inspiration hit me," he answers, somewhat absently.

Tom grins. "In the middle of the day, Ryan?" he asks, trying to fake disappointment. "Besides didn't you promise not to be hitting the "inspiration" anymore?"

"Not everything is a drug reference," Ryan shoots back, and Tom laughs.

"You know, I read your last book of poetry, right?" he asks.

"I'm hanging up now, have fun with my daughter this afternoon."

He leaves five minutes early to pick Lucy up, because he's awesome and responsible and he's not going to do anything that's going to ruin his afternoon or his chance at talking to Sean. When he gets to the main entrance to the school he's clearly the last person to show up, and all of the other parents watch him closely and give him the stink eye. Tom wonders if something about his red slippers and grey cardigan is giving off bad vibes, but he shoves his hair out of his face and leans against a tree while trying to act as little like a creepy child stealer as possible.

Before the bell's set to ring, he sees Sean opening the door to the classroom and holding it open while the children walk out. Sean follows them as they walk in a line to the front entrance. Most of the children are carrying little paper cut-outs on sticks, glitter flying behind them. Lucy's carrying one too. It's a little paper flower and all the petals are a different color. She has little bits of yarn hanging from the bottom.

At the front gate, Lucy starts looking around, probably trying to find Ryan, so Tom puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly. "Lucy-girl!" he shouts, and Lucy turns towards his voice with the widest grin in the world. He freezes almost completely because in that one moment with the wind blowing her hair and the sun shining down on her she's seriously heart-stoppingly beautiful .

"Uncle Tom!" she shouts, running over and jumping up. He catches her without hesitation, pulling her up against his chest.

"Your dads said I could pick you up today," he tells her, kissing her cheek. "I was wondering if you could give me a tour of your classroom; maybe show me your desk?"

Lucy beams again and jumps down, dragging Tom by the hand into her classroom. "This is my desk," she says, and they move around the classroom like that. She shows him her cubby, her spot on the class rug, where they do arts and crafts, Mr. Sean's guitar and all of the instruments they get to play during music time.

"I'm the best," she says, whispering like she doesn't want anyone else to hear. "Mr. Sean always puts me on tambourine because I always get it right the first time."

"Of course you do," he tells her, because Brendon's been teaching Lucy to appreciate music since the womb. He even recorded songs and his own singing onto an iPod for the surrogate to play into her belly every night before she went to sleep. It makes perfect sense that Lucy's the best. Besides, she's Jon's daughter, how could she be anything else?

"And this is my teacher!" she ends when they get to Sean's desk. Sean looks up, mouth open as if to ask Tom a question, but Lucy gets there first. "Mr. Sean, this is my Uncle Tom. He's my godfather. He's known my daddy Jon since they were in high school."

"Pleased to meet you," Sean says, standing up and extending his hand. "Lucy's a wonderful student, a real joy to have in class."

Lucy tips her head back against his hip, grinning up at Tom. "I have all A's. Daddy Spencer says that's because I lucked out and got Daddy Spencer's brains." Tom laughs, reaching down to card his fingers through her hair before looking back at Sean.

"I was just about to take Lucy to the park. It's a beautiful day and I get the whole afternoon with her. Did you maybe want to come?" He looks at Sean hopefully and then looks down at Lucy. She's got her hopeful face on too.

"Could you, Mr. Sean?" she asks, and Tom doesn't know how he manages to get any teaching done when he melts this easily for her pleading eyes, but Sean nods.

"Sure, just a second." He stands and starts packing his bag, and Tom lets Lucy tell him about her flower on a stick.

"It's to celebrate spring," she says. "It's spring now and spring means flowers. Mr. Sean read a story to us about flowers and then we made these. Mr. Sean cut out all the petals for us, and all we had to do was glue them together and decorate them. That's why mine has yarn and glitter on it."

"It's very pretty," he tells her and laughs while she waves it in the air.

"Ready," Sean says, walking up to them with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

"You have a bag like Uncle Tom," Lucy says. They head out the classroom door, and Sean locks it behind him.

"Is your bag like ours?" he asks, and Lucy takes Sean's hand in hers and then reaches the other out to Tom. Tom looks at her for a second and puts his arms behind his back like he's not going to hold her hand. Then she pointedly stretches it up until it's nearly at his chest, and he laughs and takes it.

"Answer your teacher, Lucy-girl," he says, and Lucy looks over at Sean.

"No, it's not," she answers.

"What's different about your bag?" Sean asks.

"I wear mine on my back, and I have more zippers," she stops for a second, thinking. "And I have Hannah Montana on mine!"

Sean laughs, and Tom nearly runs into a fire hydrant because he's staring. He coughs and turns to look down at the ground. "I leave my Hannah Montana bag at home when I have to go to school," Sean says with a grin.

Lucy grins back and shakes her head, waiting at the stop light without having to be told. "You don't have a Hannah Montana backpack."

"How do you know?" Sean asks while they cross the street. The park is just ahead and Lucy laughs.

"I definitely see you more as a Taylor Swift kind of guy," Tom says, and Sean looks up at him, surprised.

"_You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess_," Lucy sings. She drops their hands once they get to the park and runs towards the swing set.

"Don't go too far!" Sean says, and Tom smiles and picks up his camera. He moves around, adjusting the lens and starts snapping photos of her. She's moving her legs back and forth, tipping back so her dark hair is flowing behind her. It's a perfect photo.

"I think I remember you now," Sean says when Tom lowers his camera. Tom sits down next to him on the grass.

"Yeah?" he asks, because he was waiting for Sean to remember being in his store twice.

"Yeah, I had a parent-teacher conference about you." Sean's not smiling and nothing about his voice is telling Tom that he's joking, but Tom's used to Ryan Ross' jokes. He stares for a second, and then Sean looks away, shrugging.

"Wait, are you serious?" he asks. Sean nods.

"Lucy started drawing pictures of some guy standing over her with a camera while she was sleeping. I was concerned," Sean answers.

Tom nods. "Oh yeah. I really like how open everyone is when they're sleeping. It's incredible how honest a person looks like that."

"Yeah, it… it was kind of worrying at the time. I talked to Mr. Walker and Mr. Smith though, and they explained you were an eccentric artist." Sean smiles then, and Tom counts it as a victory even if he can't figure out why Sean would be worried about him taking pictures of Lucy while she sleeps.

"Eccentric artist, huh?" Tom asks. "I never really thought of myself that way."

"You're not an artist?" Sean asks, looking over from where he's been watching Lucy. "I assumed you were a photographer?"

"Oh, I am," Tom tells him, nodding. "I don't do it professionally anymore though. I own a photolab now."

"But you still take… oh hey! I got my pictures developed at your lab, right?" Sean says, surprised.

"Yeah, I recognized Lucy in your photos," Tom tells him, nodding. "She's pretty hard to miss."

"Yeah," Sean says, turning again to look at Lucy. She's still on the swingset, and Tom can only imagine Sean's looking at her flower-print leggings, jean skirt, and brightly colored t-shirt. "Is there a reason she… umm-"

"It's Ryan and Brendon's idea, really. They don't want to "stifle her creativity" or something? She got to decorate her own room as soon as she was old enough to decide how she wanted it to look too. Jon and Spencer don't see any problem with it. Jon said the other kids like her clothes?"

Sean nods. "I was a bit surprised by it, but yeah. She's kind of a trendsetter. I'm not gonna lie, I didn't expect it."

"Why?" Tom asks, and Sean reaches up to scratch the back of his neck.

"It's just that kids can be cruel, you know?" Sean explains. "And between the way she dresses and her umm… _unique_ family situation I'm surprised she's so popular."

"She's just special, you know?" Tom tries to explain. "Everything about her is special, and she's sort of naturally easy to be around. She gets that from Jon, no doubt."

"So… she's Mr. Walker's daughter?" Sean asks gently.

"She's all of their daughter," Tom says because even if he personally believes she might really be Jon's biological daughter, he knows that doesn't make her any less Brendon, Ryan, or Spencer's. "She has been since she was born."

"I didn't mean anything by it," Sean adds, looking apologetic.

"No, I know." Tom shrugs because he isn't taking it personally, but he is really defensive about this. "It's not the usual situation and stuff. I get that. I just… they really love her and they've given up so much to have her."

Sean stares at him with a big smile on his face, and Tom ducks his head, shoving his hair out of his eyes and blushes. "And you know," he mumbles defensively, "Jon's been my best friend since we were kids, and I'm over protective and shit."

"I feel like I should be correcting you for language," Sean answers. He's leaning back on his arms, smiling up at Tom, and while Tom's staring he licks his lips. Tom wonders if it's a signal. Does Sean want him to kiss him? He can admit to wanting it, wanting to press his mouth to Sean's and see if his lips feel as good as they look.

He's interrupted by Lucy running up and throwing herself into Tom's lap. She's sweaty and her face is flushed and she's slightly out of breath. Tom feels a bit guilty that he wasn't paying close enough attention to notice her getting off the swings.

"What were you doing, Lucy-girl?" he asks, throwing his arm around her waist. "You're a sweat-monster."

"Rawr!" she says, holding her hands up like claws. Tom tickles her stomach and she quits growling and starts giggling. "I was playing on the slide! I was playing on the slide!" she squeals. "Quit it, Uncle Tom!"

He stops and hugs her, squeezing her tight up against his chest for a second, and she slumps back against him. "Tired?" he asks. She nods. When Tom looks up at Sean, Sean's watching him in that strange, lingering sort of way.

"I should get going anyway," Sean says, standing up and brushing grass off his jeans.

"Yeah," Tom answers. "I gotta put her down for a nap."

"Well it was nice meeting you," Sean tell him, and then reaches down to muss Lucy's hair. "Thanks for a great afternoon, Lucy."

"Good-bye, Mr. Sean," Lucy says, waving.

"Before you go, umm, I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee tomorrow?" He swallows and fiddles with the hem of Lucy's shirt while waiting for Sean's answer.

"Oh, no thanks," Sean says, shaking his head. "I'm going to be busy all day getting everything finalized for the field trip on Monday. Thanks though!"

Tom waves good-bye to Sean and tries not to frown. It didn't sound like an actual brush off, but it's possible Sean's just too nice to tell him to fuck off. He could have sworn he'd caught Sean looking at him earlier but it might just be wishful thinking.

Lucy can't walk the entire way home. She gets cranky halfway there and starts crying so Tom picks her up and carries her the rest of the way. She rests her head against Tom's chest and closes her eyes, and Tom feels like a million dollars for being able to make her stop crying.

When they get to the guys' apartment, Tom puts Lucy down for a nap. "Sing my song?" she asks, turning onto her side and watching him. Tom's never been comfortable singing in front of people, but it's different when it's Lucy.

"I love you," he whispers once she's asleep. He brushes her hair back off her forehead, watching her sleep, and wonders how Jon ever sleeps if he could be watching her like this all day.

\---

"I just don't get it," he tells Nick later on when they're at some Thai place Nick wanted to try.

"Maybe he's just not that into you," Nick says and Tom stares at him. "I saw it on TV." Nick hunches his shoulders defensively and crosses his arms.

"On what, Oprah?" Tom asks, and Nick blushes. "Oh, dude… dude you _did_ see that shit on Oprah." Tom starts laughing and thinks he might never stop.

"Oh fuck you, dude!" Nick flips him off. Tom's still laughing when Nick leans in. "So how do you even know?"

"Huh?" Tom says, looking up from his beer. "How do I know what?"

"How do you know he's even gay or whatever?" Nick has this intense look on his face, and Tom wonders for a second if he's fucking with him.

"Well I don't," Tom explains. "Not really. He didn't say and I didn't ask, but like I said, I think he was looking. You know, like _looking_."

"And that's how you can tell that a guy's gay, because he looks at you?" Nick asks, and Tom shrugs.

"I'm not like, good at this shit. You just got through telling me I was bad at relationships last night," Tom says because it's true. He doesn't know how he ended up hooking up with half the people he's hooked up with. Most days it feels like a lot of having the right friends and even more luck.

"Speaking of which, why are you out with me again?" he asks. "Shouldn't you be spending _some_ time at home? I mean what's the point of asking De'Mar to move in with you if you're never there?"

"I didn't ask De'Mar to move in with me!" Nick says, weirdly defensive. Tom stares at him for a second.

"Yes you did," Tom shoots back. "I was _there_, Nick. I was on the barstool next to both of you. De'Mar was upset about Lindsey and said something about having to get a hotel for the night, and you put your arm around him and said he could move in with you. You both got pretty excited about it and kept talking about candles and eating at the restaurant across the street and shit."

"Yeah but, it's not like that! I asked him to move in with me, not _move in_ with me, you know?" Nick asks, looking at Tom with a desperate look in his eyes.

"No." Tom shakes his head, bewildered. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Nick's shoulders slump for a second and then he shakes his head and looks up again. "We were talking about you and how badly you're striking out with Lucy's teacher."

"I'm not striking out!" Tom says, and Nick laughs.

"That's only because you're not even getting up to bat." Nick throws a wadded up napkin at him, and Tom ducks and flips him off.

\---

"Tom?" Jon answers when Tom calls him twenty minutes later. He's picking through the remains of his dinner and watching Nick flirt with an entire table full of co-eds.

"Hey, Jon," Tom says back and even he can admit he sounds pathetic.

"Tom, where are you?" Jon asks. "It sounds like a restaurant?"

"Yeah, me and Nick are out to dinner."

Jon sighs. "Do you guys need a ride?"

"What? No, nothing like that, man," he says. "I walked and I think Nick did too."

"Cool," Jon replies, and Tom can just imagine him nodding even though Tom can't see him. "So… no offense, because it's always awesome to hear from you, but why are you calling me if you're out with Nick?"

"Oh, umm, because Nick's hitting on an entire table full of twenty-one year olds," Tom says.

"Are you shitting me?" Jon asks, laughing.

"No, man, he had them pull out ID and everything. Then he bought them all drinks. I'm watching it all from about three tables over."

"Don't feel like hitting on girls fresh out of college?" Jon asks him, and Tom sighs.

"I don't know. I'm sort of trying to get something going with this guy? But he's giving me the weirdest mixed signals." Tom plays with his chopsticks, holding his breath because Jon always knows what to do when Tom's having relationship problems. This time he'll even listen to Jon's advice.

"So maybe you should just come out and ask him?" Jon says, and Tom laughs.

"You make it sound really easy," he says.

"Well it is, Tom. You ask them if they want to go out, and then they either say yes or they say no."

"I already did that!" Tom stands up and heads for the exit, this is clearly a conversation he's going to need nicotine for. He heads outside and pulls out a cigarette, fumbling with his lighter while he holds his phone between his shoulder and ear. "I asked him out for coffee and he has really good reasons why he can't go out, but it doesn't sound like an actual brush off."

"Oh, huh," Jon makes that _hmmm_ sound that means he's thinking, and Tom waits, leaning against the glass of the restaurant's front window. Inside, Nick's flirting with every girl at the table, and Tom frowns at how fake it looks. "What are his reasons?"

"Like, having to write out lesson plans and not wanting to go to dinner with Nick and having to get ready for the field trip to the Field Museum," he explains between drags on his cigarette.

"That's so weird," Jon breaks in. "Lucy's going to the Field Museum on Monday with her class, and her teacher said… oh."

"I wasn't lying about wanting to spend time with Lucy," Tom says, because he doesn't want Jon to think he was using her or something. He loves Lucy and he wants to spend time with her.

"No, I know," Jon says, and Tom's glad that he sounds like he means it. "You could have said something about being sweet on her teacher though."

"I just didn't want you to think-" he begins but Jon cuts him off.

"I'd never think that, Tom, _never_," he says, and Tom lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Thanks, Jon," he says, and on the other end of the line he can hear Jon laugh.

"So it sounds to me like you need to be on that field trip," Jon adds a few seconds later.

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, Tomrad. You're great with Lucy and he'll definitely see that." On the other end of the line he hears Jon shifting papers around. "I'll call in the morning and have them add you to the chaperone list. It'll be great."

"Really?" Tom asks, not shocked that Jon's trying to help but sort of surprised by how great an idea this is.

"Of course really, Tomrad. You're sweet on this guy, I want to help you out." Jon laughs. "It's better than trying to hook you up with some random person you don't know, right?"

"You really are the best friend a guy could have, you know that?" He asks Jon.

"You tell me that a lot but it's cool to hear again."

"I gotta go save Nick from himself," he says, watching while Nick refills wine glasses. "I'm pretty sure some of those IDs are fake, and he really doesn't look like he's enjoying himself at all. It was funny for a bit, but it's seriously getting sad."

"Love you, man," Jon says. "I'll talk to you later."

\---

Jon calls him early enough in the morning that Tom's in the dark room with the professional shots. He's too deep in his work to even think about answering it. He gets the message when he takes a break later. "Hey, man, it's Jon. I'm just calling to let you know you've got an appointment at the school to fill out all the paperwork to be a chaperone. They need like your social and some info on your background and stuff. It's no big deal, but you've got to be there by noon or you won't make the district deadline or something. Anyways, call me later, okay?"

Tom looks up at the clock and sees it's a little past eleven. He's got plenty of time if he's going to make it. Then he misses the bus and has to walk all the way, which means he ends up half running for nearly fourteen blocks. He shows up at the school sweaty, flushed, and with the distinct impression that maybe he should quit smoking.

"I'm Tom Conrad," he tells the front receptionist. "I'm here to sign all the papers to chaperone my Goddaughter's field trip?" The woman gives him the most disbelieving look he's ever seen, and Tom tries to shove his hair back off his face and wipe the sweat off his forehead. The front of his shirt is wet with it though and there's no way to wipe that off.

"Can I see some identification?" she asks, setting a stack of papers on the counter in front of him. Tom shows her his driver's license, and she leaves him a pen while she heads to the copy machine to photocopy the front and back.

He sits in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the reception area and starts filling out the papers with the clipboard balanced on his thighs. It feels like he's in high school again, like he's been sent to the principal's office and now he just has to wait until he's ready to yell at him. There's even a disapproving school secretary glaring at him.

"Good afternoon, Celia," a tall black man with the most stunning profile Tom's ever seen says, walking into the office with one of those cupholder trays from Starbucks. There's a single cold drink left over, and he hands it to the receptionist with a big smile. "You ready to leave your husband and run away with me? We could go to Mexico, Canada, anywhere, just say the word."

The receptionist laughs, and Tom's struck for a second by how pretty she is now that she's not glowering at him. She's no fashion model, but it's the exact kind of ordinary, everyday beauty he loves to capture when he's walking around the city.

"Keep bribing me with coffee, Alfred," she says, swiping the coffee cup out of the holder and taking a sip. "We'll see where it goes. You just come back from your lunch break?"

"Always leading me on," Alfred says and drops the cupholder into the trash. "And yeah, I actually came in here to pick up Sean's mail and check and everything." Tom remembers him now from Sean's photos. He's even better looking in person. His high cheekbones are even more striking and his smile is electric. Tom's reminded of the models he used to see on set.

"No way, Alfred," the receptionist says, shaking her head. "We've got an auditor on campus right now."

"That's for the attendance, baby," Alfred says, leaning forward. "Come on, Celia, beautiful, gorgeous, Celia. He won't pick it up and we both know it. Especially with this field trip on Monday, he'll forget. Do you really want to be the one to blame when his water gets shut off?"

The receptionist shakes her head. "I'm not going to have my signature next to one I know is forged when we've got an auditor on campus. Go back to class and send Sean in right now if you're so worried about it. I'm sure you can handle the kids on your own for a few seconds."

"You're a cruel woman, you know that, Celia?" Alfred says and turns around, heading out the door. Tom watches him, impressed that even from behind, he makes a striking figure.

"Are you having trouble with that?" he hears, and when he looks over the receptionist is glaring at him again.

"No," he answers, shaking his head and bending back over his clipboard. "I'm good."

He has to answer the same questions over and over again, which is annoying, but he kind of likes how many steps someone has to take to get near Lucy on a field trip.

"Hey Celia," Sean says, walking into the office. He has another cold coffee drink in his hand, Starbucks logo on the side and a bright green straw sticking out the top. "Al said you wanted to see me?" While Tom watches Sean closes his mouth over the end of the straw and sucks. For a second, Tom can't breathe.

"Come sign for your check," she says, handing him a clipboard and holding an envelope in the other hand.

"Oh, sure," Sean answers and leans against the counter. He signs with one hand, sucking down big gulps of his coffee with the other. Tom knows he's staring but can't stop.

"Mr. Conrad, if you're having difficulty filling out the paperwork I'm sure I can help you," the receptionist is glaring at him again, but Sean looks up at him, blinking in surprise.

"Oh, hello again," Sean says with the straw halfway to his mouth. He blushes a bit and sets his drink down on the counter.

"Hi," Tom answers back, waving stupidly before he can stop himself.

Sean bites his lip, brow furrowing in confusion. "What are you doing here?" he asks.

"Oh, umm, Jon asked me to help out with the field trip on Monday." He holds up the clipboard with the paperwork with a smile. "So I'm filling out all the papers and forms and stuff."

"You're coming to the museum?" Sean grins, extra wide, and Tom's stomach does that flipping thing again. There's no way he's not into him at least a little. Why would he get this excited if he wasn't? "That's great! We don't have near as many chaperones as I'm comfortable with and it's such a great opportunity, you know? This is a chance to get them excited about science and learning for the rest of their lives!"

Tom doesn't know what to do with that. He's starting to think Sean's doing this to him deliberately. "Yeah well… I really like the Field Museum and I'm glad to be taking Lucy there for the first time and stuff," he answers, trying to smile.

Sean beams back at him. "So I'll see you then?" Tom just nods at him, watching him back away. Sean runs into a wall before he's even moved twenty feet and then blushes and turns around, tossing a wave at Tom back over his shoulder. It's really endearing and incredibly frustrating at the same time.

He finishes filling out the papers and hands them over to the receptionist. She's still looking at him like he's done something wrong, but it's much more tolerable now that Tom isn't sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair. If Tom were a more melodramatic person, he'd probably equate finally being able to leave with getting out of prison or something equally over the top.

As it is he just takes in deep breathes of fresh, free air and starts the long walk back to his store. He's halfway there when his cell starts singing _I Get by with a Little Help From my Friends_.

"What did you do down at the school today?" Jon asks before Tom can even say hello.

"What do you mean?" he asks, waiting for the light to cross the street. "I went down and filled out the paperwork like you told me to. I was even on time and everything."

"Then why did the receptionist, the vice principal, _and_ the principal call all four of us?" Jon asks.

"I don't know, the receptionist just didn't like me!" he says. On the other end of the line, Jon sighs.

"Tom… did you do that thing where you show up looking homeless again?" Jon asks gently. "Because you know I don't care, but other people do and it can be kind of a problem for them."

"… I had to run," he mumbles into the phone. "I missed the bus and had to sprint for like, six blocks."

Jon sighs again but this time it sounds like he's trying not to laugh. "Oh, Tom. Good luck on Monday, okay?"

He knows Jon's probably going to be laughing about this all day. He can already imagine him telling this story to Ryan, Spencer, and Brendon over dinner and Nick over the phone. That's sort of what best friends are for though so he just rolls his eyes. "You're lucky I'm still grateful for this chaperone idea, or I'd be telling you to suck a bag of dicks, JWalk," he says and hangs up while Jon laughs.

\---

He can't sleep. Usually when he can't sleep he'll have a beer or a glass of wine but it doesn't seem like a good idea. He has to be up early for Lucy's field trip, and showing up hungover is probably the quickest way to be banned. There's no way he's ever gonna hook up with Sean if he's banned from the school.

And Sean is definitely the problem. There's a coil of anticipation in his chest and butterflies in his stomach when he thinks about the field trip. It feels like it might be his last chance, like if he doesn't get it right this time it'll be too late. Worse than that though is how he can't stop thinking of Sean's mouth wrapped around that green straw, the way his cheeks hollowed when he sucked softly.

There's nothing artistic in the way he remembers it. No perfect lighting, no interesting angles, nothing that merits him thinking about it days later. It was shitty tract lighting and Sean slumped over a counter. But he can see it clearly in his mind, and he wonders what it would look like if it was his cock in Sean's mouth. He wonders how much suction he'd use.

Tom's hard, almost painfully so. There's no denying it's from thinking about Sean's mouth, imagining what it could do to Tom. He's not hurting anything by just thinking about it so he gives in, reaches down and presses the heel of his hand over the bulge in his shorts. It makes him shiver and he rocks his hips up, against his hand.

Sean's hands are broad and long fingered. If he were here now, if it was Sean's hand on his cock and not Tom's own, he'd probably wrap his fingers around Tom, all tight grip and steady stroke. Tom shoves his shorts down so they're around his thighs and runs his thumb over the length of his cock.

When they were in the park, he could see calluses on Sean's hands. He likes to think they're from guitar like Tom's are, that if Sean were doing this, it would feel the same. He likes to think Sean reaching down to roll his balls in his hand while stroking Tom's cock, twisting his wrist on the upstroke would have the same rough friction.

Tom lets go long enough to lick his palm before reaching back down to wrap his hand around himself again. He thinks about Sean's mouth, the way his cheeks hollowed and tightens his grip. Wetter, tighter, the way he imagines it would be if Sean blew him. He groans, rocking his hips up, and closes his eyes, thinking about watching his cock disappear between Sean's lips.

"Sean," he says, and it's too pathetic so he brings his free hand up to his mouth, sucking on his fingers and getting them wet. The angle's wrong when he reaches down again. If it were Sean's fingers reaching behind his balls, running wetly around his entrance before pressing inside, it wouldn't be like this, not really. It's enough for now though, enough for him to be able to imagine what it would be like if Sean were fingering him open while sucking him off, wet heat of Sean's mouth around him and the blunt press of fingers, all with the underlying promise of more.

He wonders if Sean would tease him, crook his fingers inside while swallowing around him, watching him intently, rubbing off against Tom's bed. He likes the idea of that. Sean so turned on from sucking Tom off that he has to touch himself, jerking himself so he's ready to fuck Tom.

That's what does it for him, the idea of Sean, cock hard and ready, parting Tom's thighs, ready to push inside. He comes, spilling into his hand and over his stomach, biting down hard on his own lips to keep from calling out Sean's name.

"I'm so fucked," he says, falling onto his back on the bed and breathing hard.

\---

In the morning, he gets dressed in one of his nicer cardigans, a clean v-neck and jeans. He's about to step into his TOMs when he thinks twice about it and puts on real shoes instead. He has to dig in the bottom of closet for them, but they still fit and they're plain enough that they're not out of fashion.

"Good morning," the receptionist says when he signs in. She still looks suspicious, but he's expected this time around and he knows he's managed to look at least three times less homeless than usual. He shaved and everything.

"Morning," he answers, trying to balance his messenger bag with the tray of coffee he brought. It's for everyone, not just Sean. It's early for everyone, and he's sure there are going to be other chaperones who are just as tired as he is. And if Sean is grateful for the early morning pick me up and smiles at him… that's just a bonus.

When he gets to the classroom, Lucy looks up and waves from where she's sitting at a big circular table. "Lucy," Sean says, and his voice is gentle but firm. He points at the oversized book in his hands and continues. "Now if A was for Apple and B was for Bear, what comes next?"

Kids raise their hands, and Tom tries to slink to the back of the classroom where all of the other adults are leaning against the wall behind the teacher's desk. He's behind Lucy now and can't help but try to look over her shoulder to see what she's writing down. "It's just a short lesson before the buses get here, so the kids are focused and not getting too worked up over the field trip," a familiar female voice says. He turns to see who it is and is met with red hair and a beautiful smile on an equally beautiful woman.

"Oh hey, Ash," he says, holding out his free hand to her. "I always forget Bronx goes to school with Lucy."

"I don't," Ashlee tells him, leaning back against the wall. "He talks about her all the time."

Tom frowns and looks out at Bronx. "She's way too young for boys, and I know her four dads would agree," he says. Ashlee laughs, soft and discreet, not bothering the lesson at all.

"It's not like that," she says. "Mostly he talks about her clothes and asks why he can't wear whatever he wants too." She rolls her eyes.

Tom looks back at Lucy again. She's wearing a bright yellow sundress with pink and blue flowers across the bottom, there's something that looks distinctly like a tiny blue bolero thrown over the back of her chair, and she's wearing jeans under her dress. It's a very Lucy outfit.

"Lucy does okay," he says, and Ashlee shrugs.

"I'm just remembering some of the things I've seen Pete try to wear in complete seriousness and imagining what they'd look like in a mini."

Tom looks away, trying not to laugh because he knows it would interrupt the class, and Ashlee leans in. "Are those all for you?" she asks, pointing out the tray full of coffee all with _Hamilton Coffee_ written on the sides.

"Oh no, I got this for the other chaperones, since it's early and we'll be chasing kids around and… here" he hands her a cup with a smile and gives what he hopes is an encouraging smile to the other chaperones who were clearly listening in.

Alfred walks in then and gives a thumbs-up to Sean. "All right, kids," Sean says, standing. "The buses are here. I want you to put all of your things away, grab everything you're going to need for the field trip, and line up with your buddy in front of Mr. Alfred."

Sean comes over to where the rest of the adults are, then. He grabs his messenger bag off his desk chair and looks hopefully at the tray of coffee. "Oh hey, Sean!" Tom says, holding out the tray. "Coffee?" He can't stop smiling. He's trying to tell himself to stop, that he's probably making an ass of himself, but Sean grabs a cup and takes a sip, sighing like coffee was exactly what he needed.

He ducks his head when Sean brushes by him, heading to the line with the rest of the children, and doesn't look up until someone is tapping his shoulder. "Hey, is one of those for me?" Alfred asks, pointing. Tom hands him the last cup, glad there was enough to go around, even if he didn't get any.

"Here," Ashlee says, once they're all seated on the bus. She's holding out her cup and Tom looks confused. "You brought coffee for everyone and didn't get any yourself. I'm more than willing to share mine." She's smiling when she says it, like she really means it and it smells delicious, so he takes it from her and tips it back to take a sip.

"Thanks," he says, handing it back. He pulls his camera out of his messenger bag, holding it up over the seat to take pictures of the students on the bus.

"Are you nervous or something?" Ashlee asks and Tom blushes.

"What do you mean?" he asks, like she can't see him, like she won't know how right she is.

"Oh Tom, I think it's great you're trying to be more active in Lucy's life, and I bet the other parents think so too. And if they don't than screw them anyway." She nudges him, smiling brightly, and Tom just nods.

"The only parents whose opinions really matter think you're great," She adds. "Speaking of, how are the guys? I haven't seen them since… God, probably Lucy's birthday."

"Yeah, they've been pretty busy. I talk to Jon pretty often. I call him at work at least once a week, and he's been telling me about some sort of drama at Spencer's restaurant with a bunch of the staff quitting because some guy was dating something like half the female staff or something." Ashlee laughs and Tom shrugs. "Apparently having to hire and train a large amount of the kitchen staff is stressing him out."

"What about Ryan?" she prompts, and Tom feels bad suddenly that they've all gotten so busy, that she has to ask _him_ for this sort of information. "I really miss having him around the house even if he did usually convince Pete to do the most ridiculous things."

"Ryan's working on another book, as far as I can tell." Tom says, fiddling with his camera a bit. "He read me some terrible poetry the other day. I'm hoping it's not going to make the final copy."

Ashlee laughs again, and Tom turns to snap a picture of her, mouth spread wide and happy before she puts her hand up to block him. Then the boy sitting in the seat in front of them starts having a loud argument with the boy sitting next to him and they're both busy doing actual chaperone work for the rest of the bus ride.   
\---

Tom can see the T-Rex as soon as they all enter. He has to look away, count to make sure all of the kids are there, but he can't help but keep looking back at it. It's always been his favorite part of coming to the museum. The kids must notice him looking though because they start looking too.

"It's the T-Rex!" Bronx shouts, standing on his tip-toes and pointing. He turns to Lucy once he's certain she's looking and keeps going. "That's it! My dad told me all about them. We play T-Rex all the time. He's the one who bought me my dinosaur shirt." Tom smiles, thinking of Pete lumbering around like a T-Rex with his son, but frowns when he sees the way all the kids are stepping out of line to get a look at the skeleton in the back of the hall.

"Hey! Come on, kids," he says, and curses himself for sounding so awkward. "Back in line. Mr. Se- Van- your teacher needs us all to stay in line while he talks to the museum guys." He tries to shoo the kids back towards the line and some of them go but a lot of them are still craning their heads to see.

"I think Mr. Tom said something," Al's voice breaks in, and Tom wonders how he sounds so in charge without also sounding mean. "What do we say when a grown-up who's here to help us tells us to do something?"

"Thank you, Mr. Tom," the class choruses while the rest of the class falls back into line. Tom blushes and when he looks over, Sean's watching and gives him a thumbs up.

"I've been there," Bronx tells some kids when the tour guide tells them that the pirate ship they're looking at came from England. "I went with my mom. It was awesome."

"Bronx," Ashlee says, holding her finger up to her mouth. "Listen to the guide. She's talking about the pirate gold they found." Bronx looks forward then, staring with rapt attention as the guide shows them swords, pistols, and gold pieces. Lucy's just as amazed, gazing in rapt fascination at the pirate mannequins and their pirate outfits. Tom hopes this isn't the beginning of a new style for her.

Once they're done with the pirate exhibit, they move on the one on Ancient Egypt. The guide shows the group some mummies and talks about Ancient Egypt and where the mummy is from. Tom can admit he doesn't really listen. He was never a big fan of history back in school, and he has the convenient excuse of having to watch over the kids.

"My mom danced there," Bronx says, pointing to the map of Egypt once the guide is done speaking and they're all allowed to go looking by themselves.

"Really?" one of the other boys asks, looking at the map. "Did you have to dress like that?" He points to the sarcophagi on the other end of the room, and Bronx shakes his head.

"People don't dress like that anymore, dummy," He says. "The museum lady told us it was a long time ago, like tens of years ago."

"Don't say dummy, Bronx," Tom says before he can think twice about it. It's sort of weird, this automatically replying and sounding like the voice of wisdom. Sean smiles when he hears him, wide and beaming, and Tom ducks his head, fiddling with his camera like that's an excuse.

"You're not bad at this," Ashlee says, coming up alongside him.

Tom shrugs. "It's like spending the day with Lucy, only there's more than one Lucy. and none of them are very much like Lucy." He frowns. "Maybe it really isn't anything like spending the day with Lucy." Ashlee laughs again, and they keep the kids moving through the room.

"Do you ever miss it?" he asks, and at her puzzled look he nods back towards the map. "Dancing all over the world, traveling, knowing that your art transcended language and continents?"

Ashlee raises an eyebrow, and Tom ducks his head, knowing that probably told her a lot more about him than he was asking about her. "You don't have to answer that."

"No, it's okay," she says, glancing around in front of them, making sure the kids aren't wandering off. "I… I do. I can't say I don't because that's a complete lie. I miss the thrill of waking up in a new city every week. I miss hearing my name and cheers shouted in more languages than I could ever learn. I miss the adventure, the struggle, all of that."

She bites her lip. "It was too hard though. Taking Bronx everywhere with me and trying to spend enough time with him without it effecting my dancing was exhausting. And Pete… I just wasn't made for a long distance relationship. Me and Bronx just aren't complete without him, you know?"

Tom nods even though he's never really had that. He thought he did with Bill, but it's really obvious he was wrong. "The world's loss is Chicago's gain, yeah?" he asks with a smile.

"Says the only person I know who _hasn't_ come see me perform?" Ashlee asks. Tom ducks his head.

"I always mean to," he begins, and Ashlee holds up a hand, cutting him off.

"Don't worry about it, I'm messing with you," she assures him. He wants to ask when she'll be performing again, but three of the kids pick that exact moment to try and climb onto one of the display cases.

When they finally get to the T-Rex skeleton, the kids stop talking almost immediately. Tom pulls out his camera and takes advantage of the silence and obvious lack of need for hands-on chaperoning to take pictures of the kids. They all look so sweet and innocent, staring up at the giant fossil in slack-jawed awe. Even the kids he's pretty certain are monsters look like little angels.

"It's so big!" Tommy Avila finally says, pointing up at the T-Rex, and it's like the other children were waiting for someone to break the silence because they erupt into noise.

"I always play the T-Rex with my dad!" Bronx yells over everyone else.

"Her name is _Sue_," Lucy's saying to one of the boys. "That's proof that some of the dinosaurs were girls!" In front of him, he can see one of the girls trying to climb up onto the exhibit. Shaking his head, he puts away his camera and goes to pull her down.

Lunch is a welcome break. Sean planned it so they would eat at a local park, and once he and Ashlee are done with distributing lunch boxes and brown paper sacks they both sit down at a picnic table to eat their own and watch to make sure the kids are okay. Tom's having trouble concentrating on the kids though because Sean's sitting on the grass not too far away.

He's sitting cross-legged and there's a group of students ringed around him. They're all chattering at him excitedly, and Sean keeps nodding and asking questions. The sun's hitting him just right, lighting up his already brilliant smile, and Tom wants to reach for his camera but he can't seem to move.

"Uncle Tom!" Lucy calls, and Tom tears his attention away from Sean to look at her. She's standing with her hand in her lunchbox, and Tom doesn't know why until she pulls out a blue triceratops.

"I want you to have it," she says, handing it to him.

Tom holds out his hand and she drops it onto his palm. "You didn't have to do that, Lucy-girl," he says.

"But I made it for you. It can be your Lucysaur." She leans into him, wrapping her arms around his waist, and Tom reaches down to hug her back.

"It'll always be my very favorite dinosaur," he tells her before kissing the top of her head. When he looks up, Sean is watching him. He blinks, swallowing when his gaze meets Tom's, and looks away. Tom can't help but take it as a good sign.

"Suddenly, you wanting to be on this field trip is making a lot more sense," Ashlee says, nudging him with her foot.

"Huh?" he asks, turning away from Sean and letting go of Lucy.

"Oh please, Tom. I have eyes and you're terrible at hiding your feelings. You know that."

Tom blushes, scratching his neck. "It's not… I mean I really am enjoying spending all this extra time with Lucy."

"Of course you are," Ashlee agrees, looking at him over the tops of her sunglasses. "But it helps that the scenery is nice, huh?"

Tom wants to blush harder, but Bronx comes up then and tugs on the sleeve of Tom's cardigan. "Mr. Tom, sir, umm, we want to play dinosaurs and we were wondering if you'd be the T-rex for us?" There's about five kids with him, including Lucy, and they're all staring at him with big-eyed, hopeful faces.

"Sure," he says, and lets them drag him out into some grass. Playing the T-Rex seems to consist mostly of roaring and trying to 'catch' the other kids and the kids trying to run away from him on all fours. Bronx has some random rules for the other kids that Tom thinks he's mostly making up, but the other kids don't seem to mind so he doesn't say anything.

"Get Samantha!" Lucy says the third time Tom roars and grabs hold of her. "You always get me."

"I told you Lucysaurs are my favorite," he says, and Lucy giggles when he tickles her. When it's time to leave he gets up off the ground and brushes grass off his shirt and knees. He had to take his cardigan off earlier because it was too hot to be running around on his hands and knees with it on. He stands up, shrugging back into it and nearly runs into Sean.

They stare at each other from way too close up for what feels like forever but is probably only a few seconds. "Thanks," Sean finally says, stepping back. There's a flush on his cheeks and Tom's fingers itch for his camera. "You're really good with them, the kids."

Tom just nods stupidly, swallowing hard and trying to come up with something to say. Sean surprises him by reaching up, brushing his fingers over Tom's hair. "You've got some grass," Sean says, flushing again. Tom can't stop staring.

"I really like kids," he finally says and Sean's hand stills over his head. "I was just saying, because you said I was good with them, so… yeah. I just thought I should say."

"Yeah, I got that impression," Sean says, stepping away. Tom feels like the world's biggest jackass.

When he looks up, Ashlee's frowning at him and shaking her head. "Oh Tom," she says, patting him on the back for just a second before they have to get the kids back on the bus.

"Leave it to me, okay?" she says, once they're on the bus together and on their way back to the school. "It's really obvious you need all the help you can get."

Tom walks Lucy home, listening to her chatter about the trip and everything she loved. "I'm definitely going to be a dinosaur scientist when I'm a grown-up like you, Uncle Tom," she tells him, squeezing his hand. He smiles and lets her twirl in a circle on the sidewalk, her dress flowing out around her.

"I thought you were going to be an animal doctor, like Jon?" he asks. Lucy just shakes her head.

"No," she says while Tom presses the button and waits to be buzzed in. "I definitely want to dig for dino bones." He helps her up the stairs and into the apartment, and Spencer meets them at the door.

"How was the museum, baby?" he asks, reaching down and scooping her up into his arms. Tom assumes it's okay to come inside because Spencer doesn't bother to close the door behind him, so Tom follows him in.

"So you're just going to have all of your friends play matchmaker for you?" Jon asks, coming out of the kitchen. Something in there smells good, so Tom assumes Jon wasn't cooking. He hands Tom a beer and Tom takes it, staring at him blankly.

"Huh?" he says and Jon laughs.

"Ashlee called me about some kind of dinner party with us, them, you and Sean?" he clarifies.

"Oh… really? She didn't tell me," Tom says, taking a pull on his beer.

"Obviously, Tom, that's why I had to." Jon leans against the wall, watching Spencer with Lucy. "You want to stay for dinner?"

He does. He's spent the whole day with Lucy, and the idea of going back to his empty apartment and heating up the pizza in his fridge or ordering out for Chinese doesn't appeal in the slightest. He sighs. "I do, I really, really do but I really have to put in some time in the photolab. I've got to deliver some prints tomorrow afternoon and I haven't even started them."

Jon stares at him for a second before shaking his head. "Damn, Tom. That sounded weirdly grown-up."

Tom laughs and shoves at him. "Quit rubbing it in, man."

Jon calls him when he's getting ready to leave. "Hey, can you pick up some wine or something?" he asks while Tom does the top button on the black button-up he's wearing.

"Yeah, no sweat," he answers and gives himself one last look in the mirror.

"Don't bring any of that $4 gas station wine," Jon says, and Tom rolls his eyes.

"Why are you even having me pick up wine when I'm pretty sure it won't meet with Spencer's exacting standards?" he asks, locking his door behind him.

"Ashlee said it would make you look good. Apparently bringing wine is a good thing to do at a dinner party." Tom doesn't have to see Jon to know he's shrugging. He can almost hear it. "Look, Ashlee knows her shit, you know? And she and Pete go to a lot more dinner parties than we do."

"I'm really, really hoping that tonight isn't going to be anything like the Governor's Ball," Tom tells him.

"Are you saying we should change out of the tuxes?" Jon asks him, and Tom flips off his cell even though Jon can't see. "You know people look at you like you're crazy when you gesture at your phone, right?"

"I'm hanging up now, I'll see you in twenty," Tom says and hangs up. Sure enough, all of the other people on the Metra are staring at him.

"Tom!" Pete shouts when he opens the door. Tom shakes his hand and lets himself get pulled into a hug. "Come on in, Spencer's making something that smells delicious and Brendon's stolen Patrick." Tom looks across the room and sure enough, Brendon and Patrick are sitting at the piano. Brendon's playing and Patrick's listening, nodding his head and pointing at what Tom can only assume is sheet music in front of them both.

"He promised to give him back in the exact same condition he got him in," Jon says, coming up behind Pete and slinging an arm over his shoulders.

"Aren't you supposed to be keeping my wife company?" Pete asks, and Jon shakes his head.

"Ryan took her and Sean for a tour of our place," Jon explains. "She's doing a really good job of _not_ making us all sound like freaks, so I think we should leave her where she is."

"Sean's here?" Tom asks, and Jon laughs.

"He showed up on time, Tomrad, isn't that weird?"

Tom shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders. "Not really, he's kind of a thoughtful guy like that. I'd be way more surprised if he didn't show up on time."

"Wow," Pete says, eyes wide. "I figured Ash was exaggerating when she talked about the hearts in your eyes when you talk about him. I really owe her an apology."

Tom blushes and holds out the wine in his hand. "I brought the wine, even if you assholes don't deserve it."

"What kind is it?" Sean's voice breaks in and Tom looks over to see Ryan, Ashlee, and Sean all walking into the living room. Of course Sean had to come in when Tom was swearing about alcohol. That's just how his life works. "I mean, I'm sure it's good, no matter what kind. I was just curious."

Spencer comes out from the kitchen and as if drawn by the mention of it calls out "Wine? What wine is this?" He takes it from Tom's hands and frowns at the label. Then frowns some more. "That was really thoughtful, Tom," he finally says and it's pretty much as good as Tom expected.

Tom takes the beer Jon offers him and leans against one of the walls to watch Brendon and Patrick play. "Way to make it more awkward for the single people at the party," Patrick says while Brendon runs through something for him.

"Technically there's even _more_ single people at the party, now," Tom clarifies, peeling the label off his bottle.

"Single people who are actively trying to hook up with the other single person at a party doesn't really count," Patrick adds and Tom can see Brendon nodding along.

"It really doesn't," Brendon says, looking over at Tom with a smile.

"Couldn't you guys have at least invited Nick or something so it wasn't couples, couples, couples and me?" Patrick asks Brendon.

Brendon grins. "Me and the guys aren't exactly a _couple_, you know. Besides, we want Sean to stick around, right? Nick's a bit much for a first date, or a prequel to a first date, which is what this sort of is."

"He's already met, Nick," Tom tells them. "Nick was at the shop when Sean came to pick up his photos."

"And he's still here? Was Nick on his best behavior?" Brendon asks. Tom shakes his head.

"No, actually. He was acting really crazy and Sean thought he was high. I kind of thought he was high too though, so I can't blame him for that."

"Are you guys talking about Nick?" Jon asks, coming up behind Brendon and handing him a beer. "I actually invited him, just so we'd have more people and it wouldn't be so obvious we were trying to hook you and Sean up. I tried to invite De'Mar too and he completely flipped out on me. He kept going on and on about how De'Mar isn't his concern and how he doesn't always hang out with De'Mar."

Patrick raises an eyebrow and Brendon blinks. "Wasn't Nick driving us all crazy by calling us constantly and writing emo blog posts when De'Mar had to go out of town on that coffee conference?" Brendon asks. "I remember Spencer threatening to drive to his house and kill him in his sleep. I remember it because I was all set to go with him because Nick was acting like De'Mar had fucking _died_ or something."

They all laugh then, because Nick really was that bad. Even Tom had gotten a little sick of it, and usually he's got an endless amount of patience for Nick's bullshit. "Nick's been acting weirder than usual lately, and he keeps inviting me out to dinner and to grab drinks and shit. I've probably eaten more meals with Nick in the past two weeks than I had almost all of the six months before that."

"He's probably busy at work and the stress is getting to him," Jon says, and everyone rolls their eyes.

"Who's stressed?" Sean asks, coming over with a glass of wine in his hand. Tom smiles at him and Sean smiles back, but he looks like he's waiting for something.

"Our friend Nick," Brendon cuts in, and Tom feels stupid for forgetting to answer Sean's question.

"You met him at my shop that one time, remember?" Tom adds, because he's not completely stupid around Sean. He can form words and string them into sentences, damnit.

"The one who was… you know?" Sean says and pantomimes taking a hit off a joint. Tom laughs and so does everyone else.

"I'm not completely certain he was high," he says. "Nick's kind of a lot all of the time."

"As fascinating as Nick is and as much as I'm sure he'd be pleased as hell by all of us talking about him even if he's not around," Spencer cuts in, coming into the living room and wiping his hands on a dish towel, "dinner's ready."

Everyone files in to the dining room, and Brendon mentions something about Bronx and Lucy needing to be put down for bed. "I'll do it," Tom says, because he kind of loves putting Lucy down to sleep. He waits patiently while Lucy and Bronx kiss their parents good night and lets Lucy take his hand while he walks them to bed. Bronx takes his other hand, and when they get to Lucy's room he lays down on the extra bed Lucy has.

"Sing me my song?" Lucy asks while Tom tucks her in. Bronx looks up at him, curious but encouraging.

"Don't tell anyone," Tom says, holding his finger up to his lips, and sings _Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds_ for them both. Lucy falls asleep almost right away. Tom kisses her on the forehead, adjusting the stuffed dog she sleeps with so it won't fall off the bed while she sleeps. He doesn't stop singing, and when he looks over at Bronx he's glad he didn't. Bronx is watching him through sleepy eyes, laying on his stomach with his stuffed monkey clutched tightly against him.

Tom rubs his hand in soft circles across Bronx's back, and by the time the song's over he's breathing deeply and clearly asleep. He stands up, smiling at both of them, and is surprised to hear muffled applause from the door.

He turns to see Sean leaning against the doorway. "You're not bad," he says, and Tom ducks his head, shrugging.

"It's Lucy's favorite," he says, and Sean nods.

"Yeah, she told me she was named after a Beatles song one day during music time. You really are good with them, though."

"You're the one who has to teach them every day," he says, shrugging again.

"Yeah, but I get paid for that," Sean tells him. His voice is pitched low and there's a warm smile on his lips. It feels weirdly intimate, and Tom steps forward so he's standing in front of Sean.

"Still, you spend all day with them, and Lucy talks about you like you roped the moon and brought it in to show the entire class," he says, and this time Sean's the one ducking his head.

"Thanks," Sean answers, biting his lip. "I was just supposed to be asking what you wanted to drink with dinner."

"Oh… guess I can go tell them for myself now, huh?" he asks and Sean nods, stepping back. He follows him into the dining room and fights the urge to try and brush his hands against Sean's because even he knows that's creepy.

"Are they okay?" Ryan asks as soon as Tom steps into the dining room. He's sitting next to Brendon and Brendon looks equally interested.

"Yeah, went to bed with no problems," Tom says. Spencer, Brendon, and Pete all make derisive noises.

"Yeah, figures they'd go right to bed for Uncle Tom," Pete says, shaking his head.

"It's my fault you don't have skills like mine?" Tom asks, taking the plate Jon hands to him with a grin.

"Oh, it's all so easy for you to say now!" Pete throws back. "When they're trying to impress you and do what their cool uncle says and aren't arguing about bedtimes being for babies."

Everyone laughs, even Sean. "Seriously," Ryan adds, "Lucy asked for a pair of red slippers 'just like Uncle Tom's' the other day."

"You only have yourself to blame for that," Ashlee tells Ryan, nudging his shoulder.

"How do you figure?" Brendon asks and Ashlee smirks.

"You're the ones raising her to not have taste," Ashlee says with a smile and everyone groans.

"Harsh on all counts," Jon says but Tom doesn't mind. He knows his TOMs aren't exactly high fashion.

"They're just jealous," he tells Jon.

"Oh, that's what he says now," Pete says. "You'd be singing a different song if you and Bill had adopted that kid you were talking about!"

Tom goes completely rigid and the entire room goes silent. He can practically see Pete realize what he just said and regret it. No one says anything, and except for Jon reaching over to set a reassuring hand on his arm, no one moves.

"Tom, I'm…" Pete says, but Tom just shakes his head.

"It's cool," he says, swallowing hard. "Really, I'm fine. You're right, let's not ruin the evening."

He bends over, picks up his fork and starts eating, praying everyone else will too. He doesn't want to talk about Bill, he doesn't want to talk about the two of them talking about adopting or getting a civil union or even buying a place together. All of that was years ago and Tom's past it, completely past it.

He catches Sean looking at him out of the corner of his eye and gives him a smile. Sean smiles back, and then launches into a story about music time and how Bronx and Lucy took all the shakers because no one else could "do it right". It makes everyone laugh, and just that easy, the tension is gone.

\---

"I'd better head home," Sean says when the evening is winding down and Brendon and Patrick have gone from singing together to sort of randomly noodling on the piano.

"Didn't you say you lived around Wicker Park?" Ashlee asks with a grin. "Because Tom's heading that way too."

"Oh yeah?" Sean asks, looking over at him. Tom nods.

"Yeah, I am. I'm definitely heading that way. You want me to walk you home?" He tries as hard as he can not to sound stupidly grateful and thinks he might have managed it.

"Yeah, thanks," Sean replies, shrugging into his hoodie.

Tom lets Ashlee pull him into a hug, whispers _thanks_ as softly as he can, and then lets Jon and Pete hug him goodbye. "Okay, okay," he says, shaking everyone else's hand. "We're leaving now."

Sean doesn't say much on the train, they sit next to each other, Sean's foot against his and Sean smiling shyly at him every time their eyes meet. It's like being in junior high again, pretending not to look and looking away as quickly as possible when he's caught. They get off on Sean's stop and head east on foot. It's not cold but Tom keeps close to Sean's side anyway, following him and finally giving in to the desire to brush his fingers against Sean's.

"This is me," Sean says, turning to walk up the steps of a rundown apartment building. Tom follows and they just stand there together at the top of the steps. Sean has his keys in his hand, and he's just leaning against the door, watching Tom.

"Nice place," Tom says, because he can't think of anything else.

"Are you being sarcastic?" Sean asks, but his mouth is quirked in a smile so Tom doesn't think he's taking it personally.

"No. I mean it," Tom says, stepping forward. "I had a place like this back when I was in college." He leans in and Sean mirrors him. "I've got lots of good memories of that place." The last he whispers against Sean's mouth, face tipped up, and Sean isn't shoving him away so he doesn't move away. He presses his lips to Sean's, watches him close his eyes and the way his entire face softens when he kisses back.

Tom reaches out, rests his hands on Sean's hips, and bites down softly on Sean's lower lip. He shivers a bit at the way Sean sighs into his mouth and grips tight to the back of Tom's shirt. "Go out with me," Tom says between kisses. He slides his tongue against the seam of Sean's lips and Sean parts them for him. "Please, come get coffee with me. I have a friend who owns a coffee shop so I've got proof it's good. Go out with me, please."

He licks into Sean's mouth, sliding his tongue against Sean's, and Sean pulls him a little closer. "I can't answer with your tongue in my mouth," Sean says, laughter in his voice.

"You're talking now, aren't you?" Tom asks, pulling away enough to kiss Sean's jaw.

"Funny guy, Tom," Sean's voice is a bit breathy, but Tom blames that on the fact that he's pressing his mouth to Sean's neck. "Yes, I… yeah, I'll go out with you."

"Really?" Tom asks and pulls away so he can see Sean properly.

Sean just nods, clenching his fist in Tom's shirt. "Yeah, I'd love to." Tom grins stupidly at him, and Sean ducks his head. "But I've got to get some sleep now and you know, you're not invited."

"That's okay," Tom tells him, pulling away. "You should have a good time, sleeping and everything. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah? I can call you in the afternoon, we'll have coffee, this is gonna be great."

"You don't really live in Wicker Park, do you?" Sean asks, and Tom shakes his head.

"Not even close," Tom admits and leans in to kiss him again. "It's definitely been worth the extra walk though. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

Sean just nods and turns to open his door. He walks back to the train and gets on, stopping periodically to pump his fist in the air or make victory arms. He's got a date with Sean. It's the best thing ever.

\---

He wakes up late the next day to several voicemail messages.

"_Hey man, it's Jon. Just calling to find out how it went after you guys left last night. Give me a call whenever you wake up, okay?_"

"_How the fuck aren't you awake yet? It's Nick, hit me back. _"

"_It's Ash, you owe me details about what happened last night. Let me know if we've got to plan something else, and don't forget, you promised to come see me perform sometime. _"

"_Yo, wake the fuck up, man. If I've already dragged my ass out of bed there's no reason for you to still be sleeping. Call me back, we should hang tonight or tomorrow, whenever you want. I want to… I need to… we should talk or something. No homo. _"

"_Hey Tom, it's Sean. I was calling about coffee? I'm free this evening if you want. You said you wanted to get together pretty soon so I figured… anyways. Give me a call when you get this. _"

"_Seriously, man, I know you didn't get drunk last night cause it was Pete and Jon's party thing. Wake up, we don't have to talk. It's cool if we don't. Let's just hang, okay? I met some girls at A&amp;K the other night, I could set you up. Just you, me, and a bunch of sweet co-eds! _"

"_Tom? Are you really not awake, or are you screening my calls? Not cool, man. Not cool at all. _"

He texts Nick, tells him he has plans for the night, and he's sorry but they'll have to hang some other time. Then he texts Ashlee and Jon with _gotta date, coffee later w/ sean_ and can't stop grinning at the screen the entire time. Then he calls Sean.

"Hey!" Sean answers, and Tom likes to think he can almost hear him smiling.

"Hey back," Tom says, leaning back against the wall. "I was just calling about our date. I was thinking Hamilton Coffee? We could both meet there and everything."

"See you at seven?" Sean asks, and Tom nods before remembering Sean can't see him.

"Yeah, I'll see you then."

\---

"So how'd you get started with photography?" Sean asks later when they both have their coffee and are sitting across from each other at the table.

"Oh umm, Nick, my friend Nick, he was getting into design and stuff, and I had a camera, and we were making websites and stuff for our friends and their bands and a few of our teachers in high school," he explains, twisting his cup in his hands. "I applied to Columbia and got in right out of high school. Been doing it ever since."

"Is that where you learned everything, in college?" Sean sounds genuinely curious so Tom doesn't take it too personally.

"Not really. I got an internship with this huge fashion magazine and never went back," he shrugs, because he's not completely proud of the fact that he never finished college. "It was this huge opportunity for me, at the time it never even occurred to me that I might regret it."

"Do you mind if I ask… what happened?"

Tom shrugs again. "I was dating this model and we were pretty serious. I kind of thought it would last forever, you know? But it didn't and it got kind of ugly in the end, and it turns out he was a lot more connected in the industry than I was."

"Your ex got you fired?" Sean asks.

"Not on purpose," Tom explains, because for all that he and Bill ended badly, it's not like Bill set out to ruin his life. "He was just angry, and his manager, Carden, was telling people about how angry he was and how much I'd hurt Bill's feelings. I just found fewer and fewer people calling to book jobs with me. It sucked but I made it through."

"By switching professions?" Sean asks.

"I just wasn't cut out to play that game. This way I still get to do what I love, I'm just doing it on a smaller scale. Besides, my family is here. I flew back to Chicago when Lucy was born, but I practically didn't see her for years. I left and she was a baby, and by the time I got back it was nearly time for preschool. Same goes for Jon and the guys, Pete, and Nick.

"I was in Paris when Nick's girlfriend since high school dumped him. My cell phone bill was insane and I knew it was barely making a dent. Who knows what kind of a mess he'd be if it weren't for Jon? You know about Ashlee's farewell world tour, right? Forty countries on a year-long tour with the American Ballet Company? Ashlee deserved it, it was her decision, and she decided to give up touring for a permanent position in Chicago and had to take her son with her. Pete went through a year of _hell_ though. He was in agony without them. Patrick got him through it but I couldn't help much at all. That's what always being away was like. Shit happened and my friends needed me and I couldn't be there for them."

"So you came back?" Sean asks, and Tom blushes, realizing he's been talking for a long time but nods.

"It's the only thing that made sense. I'm way happier doing what I do now and I'm not missing out on all of my best friend's lives," Tom says, and then nudges him with his foot under the table. "What about you? How'd you get into teaching?"

"Oh, I've always wanted to be a teacher," Sean says, playing with his cup. "Ever since I was a kid. I went through some phases in college where I thought I might do something else, but I got over that. I used to think I'd be an English teacher because I love reading so much, but it's best to start out in Kindergarten for sure."

"Why?" Tom asks because he can't imagine teaching six year olds is nearly as easy as teaching teenagers.

"Because I get them first." Sean leans forward to say it, his entire face lit up with excitement. "I get to teach them how to read, and if I'm good enough, I can teach them to love reading for the rest of their lives. This is where I can really sort of infect them with my own love for books."

It's kind of a creepy way to put it, but Tom gets what he means. He's sort of glad that Lucy has Sean to teach her and make her love books, to encourage her to learn. He wonders if this is what it's like for Jon and the guys. Do they feel like Lucy could grow up to be anyone, do anything? Do they think about how Lucy's future is possibly the only future that matters?

"Patrick's kind of a teacher too, did you know that?" Tom asks.

"Oh yeah, Ashlee mentioned him teaching music?" Sean answers, sipping his coffee.

"Yeah, he and Pete-" he starts to explain what Patrick does, as much as he understands what Patrick does when he's interrupted by De'Mar sitting down at their table.

"Have you talked to Nick lately?" De'Mar asks, and Tom tries to tell De'Mar with the expression on his face to _please fuck off_ without having to actually say it.

"No, I haven't," he says. "Of course, I don't live with him."

"Are you okay?" De'Mar asks, looking a bit concerned. "Your face is doing something weird. And that's exactly my point! I haven't seen Nick in weeks. When I do see him he goes on about how busy he is and how he was just on his way somewhere else. It's kind of freaking me out."

That actually sounds serious, and De'Mar has one of those looks on his face like he's not going to just let this go. He shoots an apologetic look towards Sean and turns to De'Mar. "That's not really like him," he says, because he knows De'Mar and he can tell there's something he's not saying.

"There was… there was kind of a thing," De'Mar says, and now he really isn't looking at Tom, just staring down at the table.

"Just tell me, man," Tom says, because it's really not like De'Mar to be this cagey.

De'Mar lowers his voice and leans forward. "Remember when you guys got trashed and Jon drove you home?" he asks, and when Tom nods he bites his lip and continues. "Nick accidentally ended up in bed with me and… you know."

Tom knows his eyes are probably comically wide. It shouldn't be such a shock. He's pretty fucking sure that that's exactly how Max and Ryan ended up together. But this isn't Max and Ryan. This is De'Mar and Nick, and they've been best friends for so long that Tom can't really process it.

"But you guys used to have sleepovers in high school!" Tom says.

"I know, man," De'Mar says. "We went to _prom_ together.

"I hate to interrupt," Sean says, piping in from across the table. "But that doesn't actually sound any _less_ gay than a drunken one night stand."

Tom nods because that's probably not untrue. "He's been calling and texting me. I've been ignoring him and putting him off because we've seriously been spending a ridiculous amount of time together, and I didn't feel like it any more. I guess now I know why."

De'Mar frowns and Tom reaches out to pat him on the back. "If I hear from him, I'll tell him to man up and talk to you, okay?" he asks.

"Thanks, Tom," De'Mar says. "I hate dragging you into this, but Nick's not giving me a chance to talk this through with him."

"Great." Tom smiles and looks at De'Mar pointedly. De'Mar looks back. "Now get the fuck out and let me finish my date, dude."

\---

"So your friends," Sean says when he and Tom are heading for the El.

"I swear I don't always hang out with them and usually they're not total assholes. Well, not Nick, but after a while you stop noticing it. Look at De'Mar! They've been friends for a decade, and he's even going to start hitting it with him now."

Sean smiles at him, and it's soft. He leans into Tom's side and lowers his voice. "I think it's kind of sweet that you're such a good friend."

"And how good is _sweet_ on a scale of one to 'am I getting laid tonight'?" Tom asks while they step onto the train. Sean presses up against him, mouths at his neck and Tom groans.

"Let's go back to your place and we'll see," Sean says.

It's the longest train ride of Tom's life. Sean keeps touching him, hands on Tom's thigh and the back of his neck. Sean's mouth ghosts over his, lips so soft that even the annoyed looks of the other passengers on the train don't bother Tom. He watches Sean, eyes slit open so he can see the way Sean's brow furrows, like he's concentrating on kissing Tom, making sure he's doing the best job he can.

"I can't believe you're letting me do this," he says. They're off the train, walking the couple blocks from the tracks to Tom's apartment. Tom can't stop touching Sean and Sean isn't doing any better. He has Sean pushed up against a building, his hands on Sean's hips and Sean's tangled in his hair. They keep doing this, Sean shoving him against a building or the stop light or Tom pulling him in close and not letting him go. They're never going to get to Tom's at this rate.

"What?" Sean asks between kisses, and Tom can hear the smile in his voice. "Molest me in public?"

"_Anything_," Tom answers back, pulling Sean with him, back onto the street. "I've been trying to figure out how I'm going to get you to go out with me. I never thought about what came next."

"Seriously, Tom," Sean says, squeezing Tom's hand. "Stop being so sweet."

"I dunno, being sweet's gotten me this far," Tom answers back and stops because there's someone on the steps going up to his apartment.

"Tommy!" the guy says, and Tom realizes that it's Nick and that Nick is very, very drunk. "Tom, is there someone with you or am I seeing things?" Nick has a bottle of Ketel One in his hand and when he gestures towards Sean he overtips and spills it on the sidewalk. "Oh shit, party foul!"

Tom bites his lip and tries to weigh the urgency of his boner against how obvious it is that Nick needs his help. It's not that Nick being drunk is all that new. But Nick being drunk and seeking Tom out is. Combined with what De'Mar said… Tom figures Nick's need is greater than his.

"You owe me so fucking much, Scimeca," Tom says and turns to Sean. "I-" he gestures to Nick helplessly, because what is there to say? _My friends are being dickbags and deliberately sabotaging me ever getting laid again, but I do love them and Nick will die if I leave him to wander home by himself_?

Sean looks pained for a second but nods. "Yeah, take care of your friends. We'll get together again soon, yeah?" he asks, leaning in. Tom kisses him, tips his face up for Sean's mouth and tries to memorize exactly what Sean looks like when they're doing this.

"I'll see you later," Tom answers once they break apart. Sean turns around and starts walking back down the street from the direction they came in, and Tom watches him leave.

"He just said he was going to see you later, man," Nick says. He's leaning back against the steps, pale and sweaty. "No need to look like he's going off to war or something."

"Come on," he says, reaching down to help Nick up.

Nick lets him, stumbling to his feet and then leaning against Tom. "And you still do that thing you do, that creepy thing," Nick mumbles. It's weird to be the one who's sober for once, confusing. Tom puts his arm around Nick and helps him up the steps, opens up the door to his apartment building and tries to figure out what Nick's trying to say.

"You know that doesn't help, right?" Tom asks once he gives up trying to translate Nick's drunken rambling into sense. He concentrates on half dragging Nick up the inside stairs instead, trying to avoid having Nick breath on him. "You say everything I do is creepy."

"When you kiss, keeping your eyes open. You've always done it and it's always been creepy," Nick says, leaning against the wall while Tom opens the door to his apartment. Nick stumbles to the couch, falling on it, curled up on one side and Tom rolls his eyes and goes for a glass of water.

"Should you be making fun of me?" he asks. "I mean, I did just turn down sex to make sure you don't die on me."

He hands the glass of water and some aspirin to Nick, and Nick takes them both, drinking it down and swallowing the pills. "You weren't gonna get laid," Nick says, and Tom sits down on the arm of the couch and shakes his head.

"No, I was. Sean pretty much told me I was. I gave all of it up for you. Be grateful."

"Sean's got a pretty sweet looking mouth," Nick says, nodding appreciatively. Tom raises an eyebrow and Nick turns away, looks at the floor. "I blew De'Mar. I was so drunk and so was he, and I went down on him and blew my load all over his sheets just from taking a shot in the mouth."

It's a lot of information, way more than De'Mar told him, and probably way more than Tom needs. "When you're not having a crisis, I'm going to give you hell for overshare," he says but tries to look as understanding as possible so Nick can tell he's kidding.

"So you had sex with De'Mar, what's the problem?" Tom asks. "It's not like that's so weird."

"Dude, some of us don't play for both teams," Nick says, flailing his arm out to punch Tom and missing by a mile.

"This isn't really about De'Mar having a dick, is it, man?" Tom asks, because Nick's not like that. Most of Nick's friends are either bi, in monogamous four-way marriages, or Pete. He's not the type to have a problem with that, no matter how often he says "no homo".

Nick bites his lip and hunches in on himself, looking away and rubbing at his nose. When he speaks, his voice is so soft Tom almost doesn't hear it. "I never talk to Stephanie anymore," he says and Tom reaches out and puts his arm around him, hugging him against his side.

"Nick, you know it won't be like that," Tom tells him, and Nick shrugs.

"You don't know that. I thought me and Steph were going to be together forever. We did everything together. Whenever our friends broke up, I always figured we were different, but we weren't."

"Nick," Tom says, wishing he were as good at telling Nick what he needs to hear as De'Mar is.

Nick squeezes his eyes shut and this time when he speaks his voice is harsh. "He's my best friend, Tom. Is it really worth losing that? Is it really worth having to wince every time one of our friends mentions his name like you do with Bill?"

It stings, the idea that Tom is Nick's cautionary tale, but Tom tells himself that Nick doesn't mean it. "So your answer is to ignore him and get drunk and hit on girls you have no interest in?" Tom asks. "Because even I know that's a terrible idea and isn't going to work. De'Mar's worried, he interrupted my date to ask about you. You live with him; you seriously can't avoid him forever."

"I'll talk to him," Nick answers, and when he looks up at Tom he looks scared and uncertain.

"It'll be okay," Tom says, hugging him up against his side.

"Thanks." Nick smiles for a second and then he turns even paler. "Tom?" he asks.

"Yeah?"

"I have to throw up," he says, and Tom shoves him away. Nick spends the next twenty minutes praying to the porcelain god, and Tom has to remind himself that Nick's like a brother to him and that helping him out with his crisis was definitely worth missing out on awesome sex with hot Sean.

"You need anything?" he asks once Nick isn't retching nearly as often.

"De'Mar rubs my back and puts wet wash cloths on the back of my neck," Nick answers, voice distorted by echoing of the inside of the bowl.

Tom rolls his eyes. "And it's taken you guys this long to realize you're gay for each other?" He doesn't bother responding when Nick flips him off.

\---

Tom wakes up early the next morning. The digital clock near his bed reads ten AM and just staring at it gives him kind of an awesome idea. He throws on some clothes and stumbles into the bathroom to shower, shave, and brush his teeth. "Hey De'Mar," he says into his phone while he's pulling on his second nicest cardigan. His nicest is still dirty from the museum.

"Hey Tom," De'Mar answers. "Isn't it kind of early for you to be awake on a Sunday?"

"I've got plans," he explains. "But that's not why I'm calling. I'm calling to let you know Nick's passed out on my couch, so if you wanted to confront him to talk about his feelings, now would probably be the time."

"Seriously? I'll be over in twenty, okay?"

"Use your key, I won't be here," he tells De'Mar, hoping De'Mar catches it before he hangs up.

There's no reason not to wear his TOMS this time, so he slips them on, grabs his wallet, and heads out for the grocery store down the street. The clerk is clearly surprised to see him in so early on a Sunday, but Tom smiles and grabs breakfast, whistling cheerfully.

"Hello?" Sean answers after Tom presses the buzzer after _Van Vleet_ on the intercom box.

"You should let me up," Tom says, trying to sound charming and not crazy.

"Hey… Tom," Sean replies and Tom hears that he's been buzzed in. "This is Tom, right? I didn't just let a complete stranger into my building?"

"I'll be right up and you can see for yourself, Van Vleet," Tom answers. He takes the steps two at a time, and when he's winded by the time he gets to the fourth floor, vows to quit smoking… tomorrow.

Sean's waiting in the doorway when he gets to his apartment. "What's that?" Sean asks, pointing at the bag in Tom's hand.

"I brought breakfast. I figured I could make up for how abruptly last night ended." Sean leans in to take the bag from Tom's hand, and Tom pulls it away just enough so Sean leans in close enough for Tom to kiss.

"Something tells me you were hoping to pick up where last night left off?" Sean asks when they separate. His mouth is only inches away from Tom's though and they're sharing breath.

"If that's what you want," Tom says. Sean laughs and shoves Tom away, taking the bag into his kitchen. He hears the rustling of the bag and then Sean laughs again.

"You figured you'd come over here and seduce me with bagels and mimosas from a box?" Sean asks. Tom comes into the kitchen, leans against the doorframe and frowns.

"Those are fresh bagels, thank you," Tom tells him. "And that's the finest boxed mimosas on the market."

"Made from only the finest boxed champagne, I'm sure," Sean adds, but seeing as he's pouring it into red plastic cups, Tom doesn't see how he has any room to talk.

"I didn't know you were such a classy guy, I guess." Tom crosses the kitchen while he says it, so he's standing up against Sean's side.

Sean reaches out, tangles his fingers with Tom's, and leans in, kissing him again. "I'm really not," he says, and Tom grins. Then Sean pulls him up closer, turning so he can shove Tom back against the counter, and Tom can't really catch his breath enough for laughter. Tom clutches at Sean's back, hands fisting in his t-shirt, groaning when Sean bites down on his lower lip.

"Just how unclassy are we talking?" Tom asks and Sean rocks his hips up against Tom's, shoving him back against the counter.

"I'm thinking we can always drink the boxed mimosas later," Sean tells him and pulls away, tugging Tom by the hand, out of the room and down the hall.

"You're seriously my perfect man," Tom tells him, inhaling sharply when Sean shoves his hands up the back of his shirt, nails scraping over the skin on his lower back. "_Sean_," he says, and Sean moves his hands again to pull his shirt up and over his head.

"I'm really not kidding about wanting to have sex with you now," Sean tells him, dragging Tom into his room. Tom laughs, low and soft, and helps him with his shirt. Sean drops to his knees and rubs his cheek against the outline of Tom's cock through his jeans. Tom's already hard, he's been hard almost since he walked in the door. This doesn't help in the best possible way.

"I've been thinking about it." Sean's still talking. His hands are pulling at Tom's belt and the button and zipper on his jeans, and somehow he expects Tom to be able to hold a conversation. "Since that day in the park and I didn't know if, fuck."

He cuts himself off once he has Tom's jeans down around his thighs, leaning in to lick over the head of Tom's cock and Tom moans, legs shaking with the effort to keep standing. "You should have said something," Tom tells him. He lets Sean guide him back towards the bed, half stumbling on a stack of books Sean has piled up at the foot of his bed before falling.

"You're like a parent or something," Sean tells him, crouching over him and jerking Tom's cock with lazy strokes. "I couldn't take the chance that you didn't feel the same."

"I asked you on two dates. I went on a field trip… I put on real shoes for the field trip!" Tom doesn't mean to sound so shocked but he figured he was spelling it out pretty clearly.

"I didn't mean to keep blowing you off, you just kept asking at really bad times, and I didn't know if you meant it like a date or if you were just being friendly." Sean stops for a second, like he's thinking. "That time with Nick I just really didn't think it was safe for my teaching career to be hanging around with someone like him."

"You're probably not wrong," Tom agrees and then tugs on Sean's hair. "So basically I've been chasing you for no reason?"

"I think I'm worth it," Sean tells him and then opens his mouth to show Tom just what he means. Wet heat and suction, and when Tom looks down all he can see his Sean's beautiful mouth spread wide around his cock. Sean opens his eyes, watching him, and it's not that Tom doesn't know how fucking blue they are but like this, with so much heat and want in Sean's gaze, Tom shivers under the force of it.

"Fuck, more than worth it," Tom says, tugging again at Sean's hair. Sean moans and the vibration of it rumbles like a shockwave up Tom's dick. It's not fair that Sean's this gorgeous and this awesome and has a PhD or something in cocksucking. He runs his tongue at the underside of Tom's dick, alternating pressure and suction, and Tom lets out one last groan before his entire body goes taut.

He comes like that, eyes squeezed shut and it's not until he feels Sean pull off, hears him licking at his lips that he thinks to be sorry. "I'm usually really good at warning," he promises, opening his eyes and looking up at Sean. He's smiling, grin wide and wet, mouth obscenely red.

"I don't mind," Sean says and leans down to press his lips to Tom's. He licks into Sean's mouth, tasting himself there, and reaches up to clutch at Sean's shoulders.

"Jesus, you just… you're so fucking hot. I already knew that, but somehow you got hotter when I wasn't looking." Tom bites down on Sean's lower lip after he says it, rocks his hips up against Sean's dick, hard under the jeans he's still wearing. "What do you… you can do anything."

It's such a stupid thing to say because he doesn't know Sean enough to actually say that. Sean could be into weird shit like whips or chains or dressing up in leather or animal costumes. He wants to give Sean whatever he wants though; well, maybe not the animal costumes.

Sean runs his fingers over Tom's stomach, down over the crease of his thigh. Tom groans when Sean cups his balls and groans even lower when Sean presses his thumb behind them. "Can I?" Sean asks, and Tom nods as hard as he can.

"Fuck, please," Tom answers, trying to spread his legs even more and failing when he's caught on his own jeans and boxer-briefs, down around his knees. Sean laughs again and slides his fingers into Tom's jeans, pulling them down. Tom kicks them off and reaches out to fumble open Sean's pants and help get him stripped down.

"Impatient?" Sean asks, and Tom lets go long enough to flip him off. Sean laughs again and leans in, kissing Tom again. Sean's moving in a steady rhythm, but it's not the kind Tom wants. There's no friction of Sean's hips against his, cocks sliding together. When Tom looks down he can see that Sean is shaking his leg in a desperate attempt to get his jeans off completely.

It's Tom's turn to laugh this time, and he reaches down to help pull Sean free of his pant leg, biting at Sean's side and arm on his way back up. "You cool now?" he asks Sean, and Sean shoves him back.

"Don't act like you're Mr. Smooth," Sean tells him, leaning in to bite at Tom's collarbone. Tom shivers, reaching up and squeezing Sean's shoulders.

"I didn't get-" Sean sucks hard at the hollow of his throat, and Tom cuts himself off to moan. "_Fuck_, I didn't get caught in my own jeans."

"I'm going to remember this, and the next time you do something really un-smooth in bed I'm going to laugh at you," Sean tells him, and it makes Tom shiver. _The next time_, because there will be a next time. He pulls Sean down on top of him, spreading his thighs and tilting his hips up against Sean's body.

"We'll never get a next time if I die of old age waiting," Tom tells him, and Sean grins back, crawling down between Tom's thighs. He kisses Tom's stomach and dips his head down, scraping his teeth on Tom's hip and over his thigh. There's a bit of stubble on his chin and it scratches, but Tom doesn't care for long because Sean's parting his cheeks and pressing his mouth between them. He licks over Tom, tongue against his entrance, and Tom doesn't feel the slightest bit embarrassed at how loudly he moans.

"Oh, _fuck_," he says, parting his thighs as much as possible, tilting his hips up, silently begging for more. It should be embarrassing, the slutty spread of his thighs and the way he's moaning like he's in porn or something. It's also fucking amazing, and if Sean stops any time soon he might kick him in the balls.

"_Sean_," he reaches down, tangling his fingers in Sean's hair, pulling. From this angle all he can see is the top of Sean's head and his eyes closed, brow knitted in concentration. Sean's tongue presses deeper, and Tom can feel him slide his finger in alongside it, stretching just a little. It hurts, not much but enough, and he bites his lip and concentrates on the wet slide of Sean's tongue instead.

One finger gives way to two and Sean lifts his mouth, slides his tongue behind Tom's balls, licking up to his balls. Sean must have grabbed slick as some point because even without his tongue his fingers are wet, still stretching him. It doesn't hurt anymore. "Just, come on and _fuck_ me, Sean," Tom says, tugging harder at Sean's hair.

Sean closes his mouth around Tom's balls and twists his fingers inside of him, pressing against that place that makes Tom's entire body arch, toes curling against Sean's bed. "Now, come on." Sean does what he asks this time, lets Tom tug him up, stopping only long enough to fumble on a condom (Sean has to smack Tom's hands away when Tom tries to help. "You're just going to make it take longer," Sean says and Tom drops his hands down to the bed faster than he's ever moved before) and lube up.

"Are you always this pushy?" Sean asks him when he's lining himself up, braced on two hands above him.

"No," Tom answers, shaking his head. His breath catches when Sean pushes in. It's not that Sean's got some sort of monster cock, but it's been a while and it's not the same as fingers or tongue. He breathes deep and nods, hips working up against Sean. When he can think about anything else beyond _more_ and _deeper_ and _Sean_ he licks his lips. "I just wanted this," he tells Sean. He's watching him, watching the way Sean closes his eyes, the way he bites his lip. Sean's face contorts in the weirdest way when he lets out a moan. It's beautiful and strange at the same time.

Tom wants to photograph it, wants to look at this any time he wants. He settles for rocking back against Sean's dick, rocking down hard and matching Sean's moans with his own.

"You're watching me," Sean says, leaning in, mouth pressed against Tom's cheek. Tom knows why Sean isn't trying to kiss him, but he doesn't mind. He turns his head, meets Sean's lips with his own, licks softly into his mouth.

"I like to watch," Tom breathes into Sean's mouth, voice little more than a whisper.

"I'll have to remember that." Sean grins when he says it, wide and pleased, but there's something dirty in it. Tom thinks about that, about Sean touching himself for Tom, letting Tom watch while he jerks off or finger fucks himself open. Then Sean reaches down between them, wraps his hand around Tom's dick and it's too much. Tom feels like he's been hard since he woke up this morning, and now Sean's touching his dick again and telling him he'll let Tom watch.

He comes, shaking and groaning before falling back, boneless on the bed, thighs still parted. Sean's watching him, lips parted, hips working against his. "Sean," Tom says, clenching around Sean, and Sean squeezes his eyes shut, his entire body going rigid. Sean's face smoothes out, peaceful, and Tom surges up to kiss him because he feels like he has to.

"That was," Sean says, pressing Tom back against the bed. "That was amazing." He runs his clean hand over Tom's cheek, and Tom turns his head to kiss his palm. Tom grins up at him, as wide and as happy as he knows how. He winces when Sean pulls out, but stretches out on Sean's bed while Sean gets up to throw the condom away.

Tom lets his eyes shut, intending it to just be for a few seconds, but when he opens them again it's because Sean's crawling into bed next to him. "Did I fall asleep?" he asks, and Sean shrugs.

"Not for nearly as long as I'm about to," he says, yawning and curling up on his side.

"Just a few hours," Tom answers, even though he doesn't have to convince anyone.

"Don't worry," Sean says, eyes closed. "I put the boxed mimosas in the fridge, it won't go off or anything." Tom hadn't even thought about that. His boxed wine never went bad but that didn't have orange juice mixed in. Sean really was a smart guy.

\---

When he wakes up, the sun is much higher in the sky and Sean's gone. The clock by Sean's bed says it's 3:40 in the afternoon and the sound of running water tells him Sean's probably in the shower. There's come dried to his stomach, he can feel it flaking. Joining Sean sounds like a great idea, but curiosity gets the better of him and instead he reaches for his jeans and fishes his cell out of the pocket.

He hits number three on his speed dial and waits for De'Mar to pick up, leaning back on Sean's bed.

"De'Mar's phone," Nick answers, which is probably a good sign. If Nick's answering De'Mar's phone for him they're probably at least back on speaking terms. De'Mar wouldn't let- he's cut off by Nick moaning. He doesn't want to believe Nick is actually moaning in his ear, but it's kind of unmistakable. Tom slept on Nick's couch for a couple weeks after everything with Bill went south. He knows what Nick sounds like when he's hitting it with someone.

"… fuck, your tongue," Nick whispers, like he thinks he can hide this shit from Tom when Tom's on the phone with him.

"Did you seriously answer the phone while De'Mar was blowing you?" he asks, and abruptly hates himself for asking a question he knew the answer to. "Of course you did. For fuck's sake, I'm thrilled you're not going to be cockblocking me with your big gay crisis anymore, but next time _let it go to voicemail_."

Nick moans again, because he's a dick but then he gasps out. "I think, _fuck_, I think De'Mar's trying to say thanks, for whatever. No, don't get up. De'Mar get your mouth back on my dick. Hey, come on!" There's a weird noise, and then Nick's voice is getting further away.

"Tom?" De'Mar asks, voice low and gravelly. Tom could have gone the rest of his life without knowing what De'Mar sounded like after he sucked cock.

"Yeah," he says, because at this point hanging up seems a moot point.

"You really are the best friend a guy could ask for," De'Mar tells him. It's really touching for all of two seconds before he hears Nick in the background.

"What the fuck? _I'm_ your best friend," Nick says, and Tom thinks that's the sound of Nick hitting something, probably De'Mar. "Tom doesn't get to become your best friend just because I'm fucking you now, that's not cool."

Tom hangs up while they're still arguing, and it's so familiar he doesn't know how he didn't see this coming. Over the sound of the water running in the bathroom, he can hear Sean singing, low and sweet. Nothing's ever sounded more inviting.

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thanks to riorhapsody because without her this would never have been written. Thanks for the cheerleading and kicking my ass into gear, giving me a summary and a title and telling me when stuf was working and when it wasn't. Similar thanks to colouredmango, stealstheashes and marksykins. Thanks to way2busymom, saturnalia, fiddleyoumust and Meg for beta help


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